


Borrow My Hubby: Long Term Loan

by colepaldigirl



Series: Borrow My Hubby [2]
Category: Doctor Who RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7467456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colepaldigirl/pseuds/colepaldigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is RPF, my usual warning applies. See below.</p><p>In a sequel to Borrow My Hubby, two years have passed since Jenna and Peter spent a weekend with one another that would change everything. They have not been in contact since. But Peter has never moved on, has not worked in months and his marriage is crumbling. Jenna remains staunchly single despite eligible celebrities trying their best. In a last ditch attempt to save his marriage and keep his career going Peter agrees to make a television drama in Wales in order to focus and motivate himself, but the plot and his chosen co-star might make things even more complex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A note on RPF: This is a Real Person Fiction and a lot of people feel uncomfortable reading these. I can completely understand that and if it’s not for you please feel free to skip it.
> 
> My view of RPF is that because I don’t know the people involved I can’t possibly know what they are like in real life. My portrayal of them will therefore be totally inaccurate, so inaccurate it’s probably laughable to anyone who knows them. They are about as fictional as any other character I might write with any other name. RPF just happens to contain characters with the same names as my heroes and some vague descriptors eg Jenna and Peter look like Jenna and Peter, they star in a show called Doctor Who. There may also be some reference to real life events, like a particular episode filmed. 
> 
> The things I make them do or say however are entirely imaginative and would never happen in real life. I intend no offense whatsoever to anyone mentioned by name in these fics or to their families. Its fantasy only. The safest thing, as I say, is not to read them if you think they might bother you, just like I don't read certain fics myself.

 

‘ _Oh wilt thou come with me sweet Tibbie Dunbar,’_

The chord rang out under his fingertips.

_‘Oh wilt thou come with me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar…’_

_To ride on a horse or be drawn by a car,_

_Or walk by my side, sweet….’_

Peter stopped, his fingers poised over the strings of his acoustic guitar. He always got to that point of the song before his voice cracked and he couldn’t complete the chorus. It didn’t seem to matter how often he practiced or sang, it just always got to him, the memories too vivid even after over two years. Two years since he managed to get through the whole song and looked up to find her standing in the study door in her light robe, fresh from the bath he had run for her. Rose petals, he remembered the scent of rose petals.

He closed his eyes and tried to will the image away but it was a battle with his heart. He knew he should distract himself again, but it was so often that his thoughts just came full circle. They’d shared so much time together, seen and done so many things, that almost everything could act as a trigger, if he sought it hard enough. And he did seek it, quite deliberately, he knew that. The trouble was so did his wife, he could see the irritation and pain in Elaine’s face when his thoughts drifted. ‘Stop thinking about her, you’re doing it again,’ and for a moment he would focus on whatever else he could before he lapsed. They were happier times, those three years he had known Jenna, and again and again they dragged him back. The world’s clock, for him, had stopped.

He tried, he really did, to go back to a time pre Jenna, to a time where he and his wife were blissfully happy and nothing was complicated by wayward feeling and desire. But Jenna was going nowhere. Not her image, not her memory, and it was largely because he didn’t want her to, and Elaine knew it. Once the perfect couple, things hadn’t been quite so picturesque between them since that weekend, two years ago in autumn.

Elaine’s big mistake. She spent her sleepless nights kicking herself for throwing the pair of them together, for acting as the catalyst for a potential love that had simmered for years. ‘Sure, borrow my husband for the weekend, he’ll show you how a lady should be treated, show you where Richard is going wrong. Go the whole hog, I trust you both. It’s a one off special.’ Her open bohemian idealism backfired and she returned home on Monday to find them both pale faced and ill with guilt, their hearts breaking. She told him later she had never seen him look like that and he made her so afraid.

No more. She had to protect her family. She sent Jenna away and contact was severed. Peter poured himself back into his marriage and tried to make up for his wayward emotions. At first things seemed to be normal but then she noticed more and more and he grew less able to hide it. She was sharp and couldn’t be fooled easily. Each time Jenna appeared on the television, in a magazine or on a webpage she noted his reaction. Sometimes he’d walk out the room, other times stand transfixed by her performance. Elaine grew suspicious and began to subtly follow him to see more. He could feel her eyes on him from dark corners but he didn’t protest. He had hurt her; he had earned her suspicion and lost her trust. She had a right to watch him now, but it was no good way to live.

It was bearable while he was working, he only spent the weekends with Elaine, he only had two or three days to placate her suspicion and try to make things up to her. They managed the odd meal or date where they were almost their old selves, but she never once invited him back to their bed. They were haunted still, despite outward appearances of improvement.

Nothing lasts forever, and life got more complicated this year.. When _Doctor Who_ finally finished he came home late on the last day of filming and found his old co-star in a Sunday supplement on the kitchen table. He read the article and felt the usual pang of loss. Jenna was now a famous and hugely successful singleton who wouldn’t say why she chose to be alone. The celebrity world chased her constantly, vying for her affection. Peter knew her reasons. So did his wife. He felt Elaine watch from the door as he stared mournfully at Jenna’s picture and then couldn’t stand the heat of his own metaphorical kitchen. He left the house and made his way to his studio to think and be alone. He could not sense his wife following this time, she had seen enough.

His studio. A place of privacy and escape. A sacred room that lay at the end of the garden path, filled with artists’ necessities and his electric guitar. Elaine had always promised she would never enter it and he had trusted her entirely. For a long time there was nothing there that would upset her but after Jenna things had changed.

On the last day he had spent with Jenna he had bid her strip and started her portrait, and in between his work in Wales he continued its progress. It was slow and painful, it never looked quite right and when it did it hurt him to see. At last a few months ago it was completed and varnished and he took it from the easel. Not something he could put in the house he nailed a picture hook to the wall of his sanctuary and hung the portrait. It hung for week after week and in the quiet spell after the end of the show he spent many an hour closeted with it and his art.

Now, sitting playing the guitar, trying to fool his mind and body into feeling calm again, he knew Elaine had seen it. On one of his rare trips out of the house since hanging up his role, she had taken advantage of his absence and gone to the studio. She was tense later that evening and silent and when he checked the little building himself he saw the door only half secured, jamming in the wet weather against its frame. Elaine hadn’t the strength to pull it to. He went back to the house and asked her straight, had she been inside, had she seen? She looked at him and answered yes. There was anger in her eyes, and pain, but there was also resignation. It came as no true surprise to her. She didn’t want to talk and went straight to bed.

He knew then things were bad, perhaps so bad they were irreparable. To break that trust, for Elaine to invade his space she must feel so insecure. He knew that was his fault, he knew where it came from and he could have stopped it, if he threw the portrait away, but he couldn’t bear to. That told him all he needed to know, and it told Elaine too. Jenna’s portrait was still in pride of place in his private studio, just as her memory was in his heart. There was no competing with that sort of dedication.

He let his fingers play the suspended chord and listened to the notes dying.

A script thudded down on the seat next to him and he looked up to find Elaine watching him.

‘You need to work,’ she said, ‘You can’t sit in here forever, moping, playing dead love songs for a woman you never see. Do something and stop wasting time.’

‘What?’ he stammered, unsure where this sudden bout of motivation had come from.

‘Look at yourself,’ Elaine folded her arms and looked down at him, ‘If you aren’t in here playing you’re in that studio, I don’t want to know what you do in there but it certainly isn’t creative. You used to paint and compose and write, you used to use your mind for more than pining over a woman half your age.’

‘Elaine... stop…’ he said wearily.

‘No, you stop!’ she cut him off sharply. ‘I have been forced to live with this, to varying degrees for the last two years. Pretending it was fine, and then realising it wasn’t. Trying to rebuild things, and then losing trust.’

‘Elaine I have tried…’

‘We both have,’ she said, ‘We have _both_ tried, but the difficulty is she is still here, in your head and in your heart and you won’t let go. Won’t or can’t or don’t want to. It amounts to the same, but you won’t do anything about it.’

‘What can I do about it, Elaine?’ he snapped, ‘We had one weekend and it sparked off all this feeling, all this emotion we didn’t mean to fall into. I did the right thing and tried to carry on with my marriage. What else am I supposed to do? I can’t turn off how I feel because believe me I’ve tried, and I can’t make you trust me, so what? What should I do?’

‘Live!’ Elaine said suddenly, ‘I want you to live!’ She cried desperately. He watched as the tears started wetting her cheeks. ‘Since she left you’ve been unrecognisable. It wasn’t quite so bad when you were still in the show, it forced you to keep going somehow, but now that’s over… I don’t know you. Its changed you, all this business, you’re so.. so…’

Peter paused and looked at her, puzzled.

‘How? How am I different?’ he asked.

Elaine shrugged her shoulders, ‘You never sleep, you hardly eat, you spend your time locked in here or staring at that… that _bloody_ portrait. You never smile anymore Peter; I can’t remember the last time I heard you laugh…. And it’s horrible, it’s just unbearable. It’s not _you_.’ She covered her face and sobbed before sitting down with a thump on the seat beside him, the abandoned script to one side of her. After a moment she wiped her eyes and sat staring at the floor.

‘I invited her into our lives,’ she said, ‘On an intimate level. She was a nice girl who had a horrible boyfriend and I knew you cared about her. I thought it would be OK, and it wasn’t. I made a mistake.’

‘So did I,’ he said. ‘I went with it, when I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from… from feeling the way I do.’

Elaine nodded. ‘We can’t go on like this. We can’t both of us be rotting away in the house in separate rooms because of one weekend. We have to find a way to fix this. We have to do the things we used to do, see friends, go to the theatre, enjoy each other’s company again. We can do that, Peter, we were friends long, long before we were a couple. We need to rediscover that before we can rediscover any kind of marriage. That’s… that’s if we both even want to… no… don’t tell me now… I can’t face that discussion.’

He leaned heavily on his knees and passed one hand over his face tiredly. ‘And that script, what’s that about?’ he asked.

‘You have to get back to work,’ Elaine said, ‘You are no good when you are rattling around the house. You get low, and irritable and you fester until no-one would look twice at you for a role. If that happens we’ll never survive this, we’re under enough stress. You need to work to be happy, you always have.’

He nodded.

‘You’re in demand right now,’ Elaine continued, ‘there’s stuff piling up on your desk. This is just one of them,’ she reached for the bundle of paper, ‘You have to get back into it before everyone forgets you and you’re doomed to early retirement and go mad from boredom.’

‘I could just sign autographs for fans for the rest of my days,’ he said.

‘You’d go mad,’ she repeated, ‘you need a project, you always do. Some of these scripts are really good.’

‘How would you know?’ he looked at her.

‘Read them,’ Elaine said and bit her lip, ‘I hate to see you this way, I wanted something to encourage you with.’

There was a pause.

‘Why are you doing this when I have messed everything up so much? When I still think about Jenna every day? Because I do, Elaine, I’m sorry. Why go to these lengths when all I’ve managed to do lately is hurt you? I can’t guarantee any of this will work.’

Elaine quickly wiped one cheek with her sleeve and sniffed before trying to hold her husband’s gaze long enough to prove herself strong.

‘Because I haven’t given up yet. I won’t. I still love you,’ she said. ‘Now please, pick a project, and I’ll pick one for me. We’ll work, and we’ll talk and we’ll start building things back up again…’

‘Elaine, what if all this doesn’t fix things…?’ he asked quietly.

Her wavering gaze finally gave way and she looked at her hands. ‘It has to,’ she said, ‘You’ve been my life for thirty years and I’ve been yours. We don’t exist anymore without each other. What would I do without you, Peter?’ her voice trembled as she looked at him, ‘What am I supposed to do?’

Peter instinctively wrapped his arms around her and held her tight for a moment before drawing back and managing a small smile.

‘OK,’ he said quietly, ‘We’ll try.’

Elaine wiped her eyes and stood, ‘I’ll make us some food,’ she said trying to assume something of normality. ‘Have a look at what’s there,’ she indicated the pile of scripts on the desk, chose something you think will challenge you, keep your mind occupied.’

Again he gave her a half smile and watched as she left his study. He collapsed back in his chair for a moment and exhaled heavily. He wasn’t sure, about any of it, he just wasn’t sure. The intensity of his feelings for Jenna has never lessened. Were they real? Had she become a fantasy in his mind over time? Should he keep trying to redirect his love back to his wife when nothing he did gave him that feeling? He cared for her, dear God he cared for her, more than any other person in the world but did he love her, like _that,_ anymore? He couldn’t tell, nothing had made sense since that weekend.

‘Stop it,’ he said out loud, ‘Stop thinking about her, Elaine’s right.’ He pushed himself out of the seat and approached the unsolicited manuscripts lying in messy piles on his desk. It looked like an awful lot of reading and he wasn’t at all sure about something that took that much concentration. He blew through his lips making a raspberry noise and lifted the first that came to hand.

Vampire film. Seriously? He threw it to one side.

Adaptation of a Thomas Hardy novel. Period piece. Awkward costumes and funny turns of phrase. Not really him.

Modern drama series. Tragic love story. He laughed, well that would be appropriate but it probably contained broken marriages or cheating or something that was a bit close to the bone. He didn’t want to be made to feel guilty all day on set. Never the less he flicked it open to read the synopsis and paused. Small cast. Intimate setting. His character would be put through his paces and as such so would he. There was quite the emotional range to play; there was his challenge, it was heartbreaking really. And maybe it would be cathartic? He checked the crew and recognised a few names. It was to be filmed in Wales.

That brought him a genuine smile for the first time in months. He missed the guys and there were a few of them on this project.

Peter closed the manuscript and looked at it thoughtfully. His opposite number and co-star was yet to be cast but he might get a say in that if he got back to the producer sooner rather than later. He set it to the other side of the desk on what would now be the Maybe Pile and continued to work his way through the other scripts. This could be good; this could make things better. Please let something make things better.

 


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Jenna rummaged in her Louis Vuitton designer bag while her agent, Emma, talked her through the latest offers. She was, to say the very least, disinterested in most of them if not all. Gone were the days where she would consider adverts or soap operas. Anything she committed to now had to be high quality, highly paid and likely to end up with awards. Her career had exploded in the last two years, kicked off by _Victoria_ and then a number of one off but powerful dramas, she’d even made it into film. In truth she hadn’t stopped for a minute.

She found her mirror and lipstick and began reapplying it while Emma continued her hard sell. Jenna knew she had at least one major project lined up already and then she was considering actually taking a break. Her family were begging her to do so. They barely saw her, they argued, couldn’t she just take a few weeks off? Stop shooting, stop the nights out and just come home. Let mum cook her tea.

It’s not that she wasn’t tempted, there was a lot of good to be said about home; but the main problem she had with it was stopping. If she went home she had to stop and stopping meant thinking. She preferred learning lines, doing interviews, rushing from place to place for photoshoots and on location shots, answering her phone, sending texts. Never thinking beyond the job at hand. She didn’t want to go home to think and she didn’t want to look her mother I the eye, because she of all people would know. Inside Jenna was just the same as she had always been and yet couldn’t be more different. Inside she was hurting.

‘Jenna? Jenna are you even listening?’ Emma said.

Jenna pressed her lips together and checked them in the handmirror before snapping it shut.

‘What? Yeah, yeah, listening,’ she confirmed, finally looking up. She saw Emma sigh.

‘Listen, Jenna, it’s no great surprise if you’re exhausted, all you have to do is say.’

‘Exhausted?’ she prickled, ‘I’m fine, totally fine, show me a script.’

Emma watched her carefully, appeared to consider whether or not another project was wise. ‘You’ve been going non-stop since you left Doctor Who, surely a bit of down time…?’

‘Script,’ Jenna said with a forced smile, ‘bring it on.’

Emma closed the manuscript she had in front of her and studied her client. ‘You’re sure? Because these people, they’ll wait, they want you for this more than anyone else, they will wait a few weeks.’

‘I’m not holding up a production,’ Jenna said, ’Show me it the details, you must think its good right, I signed up to something good?’

‘It’s a very powerful script.’

‘Then it’s ideal,’ Jenna enthused. Emma continued to watch her carefully as she took the manuscript and flicked through.

‘Its heavy emotional fare,’ Emma said, ‘Heartbreaking really.’

‘I cry nicely,’ Jenna said.

‘I’ve noticed,’ Emma said levelly. Jenna flicked her eyes up.

‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked.

‘Nothing, nothing bad anyway but I’m worried you’re burning yourself out, not allowing yourself space or time to breathe, to deal with your own life never mind all the stuff on the page.’

‘I am fine,’ Jenna said with a slight edge, ‘I don’t have any problems in real life.’

‘You don’t give yourself time to have a problem, you never top.’

‘That’s my choice,’ she responded guardedly. ‘Now… this script. It’s being filmed in Wales…’

‘Yes, usual things apply, they’ll get you an apartment in Cardiff…’

‘It’s like old times,’ Jenna said quietly, ‘I know some of the crew. ‘I’ll get going on it, read it tonight...’

‘A few months in Wales with some old friends might do you good,’ Emma encouraged. If her frazzled client insisted on working she’d rather she did so in a familiar and pleasant environment. ‘You might find it soothing, your old stamping ground.’

Again Jenna’s posture tensed at the implication there was something wrong but she relaxed a little as she continued to skim down the list of crew. A tiny smile threatened to appear.

‘Yeah, OK, I’m on board, I’ll read it later. Oh look there’s Tom, Rufus…’ the smile increased and she looked up. ‘They still haven’t cast the male lead?’ she asked.

‘No, I’ll chase it, they can’t be far off. They were waiting to see that you were one hundred percent, they want to pick someone you’re comfortable with, someone you have a chemistry with already. You know, for those more intense scenes, you’re going to need that, it gets quite…’ she paused to find the word, ‘It gets quite overwhelming, if you were living it each day… you’d need a debrief with someone trusted, you need a friend to work with.’

Jenna nodded, ‘Yeah,’ she said quietly, ‘I do.’

‘Jenna…’ Emma abandoned the topic of work and spoke to her with sympathy, ‘If you ever wanted to, I don’t know, grab a drink, have a chat…’

Jenna looked u as she folded away the script into her bag. ‘Yeah, great,’ she dismissed pleasantly. ‘We done here? I have an interview with _Glamour_ …’

‘Yeah, we’re done… I’ll get onto them and see about the male lead.’

‘Cool, let me know.’

Jenna stood and quickly made her way from the office, trotted down the stairs in her unfeasibly high Loubottons. She could feel her phone already vibrating but ignored it preferring instead to get into the freshish air of the street outside and snatch some thinking time. Just a few minutes, anything more and she risked getting morose.

A few weeks in Wales, maybe a couple of months, she needed to check the details. A chance to get away from the London scene and the cameras that seemed to be around every corner. She could hang out with some of the old gang and maybe even feel like her old self. Jenna unfolded her sunglasses and put them on, adding to her disguise. Did she _want_ to feel like her old self? Was it wise?

Part of her longed to be the innocent girl from a few years ago, when she was filled with optimism and still got excited about things. The Jenna she knew back then could go to the supermarket and walk down the street unrecognised. She could go on holiday with her friends and just be one of them. She could nip home as often as she liked. No one really judged her, no one placed expectations on her shoulders. She loved her job, the silly things it entailed, the daft rubber monsters and the spaceships and… Jenna stopped by the edge of the pavement waiting for the lights to let her cross.

She missed her friend. She missed Peter. She watched the red ‘don’t cross’ man. She missed the long hours they spent talking on set; the improvisations they went through for each and every scene, the laughter. She missed the end of the day when they went through the next day’s scenes, eating Chinese and chattering about nothing. She missed his voice and his smile and his eyes.

She missed his eyes; the way they always sparkled when he looked at her.

The lights changed and the bleep of the pedestrian crossing rang out, making her jump. She could see from the corner of her eye two or three younger women close by on her side of the road, looking in her direction, their idol probably, should they get her autograph? Jenna put her head down and crossed the road to avoid them. Normally she’d say hello, distract herself from her thoughts by signing whatever they wanted, but not today.

Today it was hurting more than normal and she blamed that bloody script. It was stirring memories of Wales and the show and the fun she had. She didn’t actually remembering saying yes to the project and wondered if Emma had just gone ahead without her express permission. That wasn’t usually a problem, her agent had incredible taste and had guided her through some minefields in the last two years to become a massive success.

However, the Wales issue, that was bound to make her feel blue. Emma didn’t know all the details though she knew something had happened; she had to know, people were still fascinated by the Doctor and his Companion and their obvious strong friendship. Emma had to tell a few lies now and then, reassure the public everything was just as cosy, mates for life, or give reasons why they hadn’t been seeing each other quite so often.

Or at all. They hadn’t seen each other at all. Not since that weekend. Jenna ducked into the shade and headed for a café she knew. Glamour could wait, she was sufficiently famous that she could be fashionably late. As she entered the café she winced, she never used to think that way, she’d become all appearance and ego, with elements of diva. Who was she now? If she did ever see Peter again he’d be horrified.

She ordered a skinny latte and sat in a hidden corner of the establishment, secluded but still able to command a view of the street. The number of cups of coffee she had shared with him. The number of meals. Jenna took her sunglasses off and groaned. She really had to shift these thoughts. Don’t think of it now, don’t think of him.

Sort yourself out. She sipped the coffee and rummaged for her phone. Checked the missed call from a few minutes before. Richard. The guy never gave up. Years down the line from their split and he still phoned and texted, still talked about her in the press, still hoped. She was the best thing he had ever had, and he had blown it; absolutely blown it. He’d treated her like a trophy, paid no attention to her needs and she’d eventually finished it.

Jenna thought of Peter again. He’d helped her realise what it was to be loved. He’d helped her see Richard wasn’t the one. But he’d also helped her see just how very much she loved him, and it had hit her like a train that weekend. She had never felt anything like it before or since and she somehow knew she never would. In the world she lived in handsome actors and musicians were perpetually at her proverbial door, asking her on dates, chatting her up at parties. They were nice guys but they never felt right, never enough. They never clicked with her the way he had. Gradually as the months past she realised this feeling was going nowhere. She still cried herself to sleep sometimes.

The press were on her like a flash. They loved to track the latest romances so when they saw her alone, month in month out they began to make a thing of it. Headlines varied from _Broken Hearted Jenna alone at Xmas,_ to _Single Jenna, is she Gay?_ She learned to laugh or ignore the lot of them. Why did people have to pry? Why did they care? She started getting more proposals in her fan mail. Her mother joked she should give them a chance.

Jenna didn’t even bother listening to Richards message, she knew what it would say. ‘I love you… blah blah… smooth things over… blah… start again… blah dinner?’ She deleted it and set the phone on the table resuming her people watching. Sometimes when she did this she imagined she had seen him. It was possible maybe she had, he used to like being out in town. She wondered if he still did and frowned. She hadn’t seen him I the press the way she was, she way he used to be.

The rumble of the phone on the table made her startle again and she looked down to see Emma calling.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, it’s me, I called about the lead.’

‘Oh’ Jenna said, managing a moderate amount of interest, after all she had to work with this person for weeks. ‘That was quick.’

‘They want to get you in a room together to make sure you’re happy, but they’ve pretty much picked him.’

Who is it?’ she sipped her latte.

She heard Emma take a breath on the end of the phone. ‘Well that’s the thing I’m not sure how you’ll feel and I think maybe it will come down to how badly you want this role.’

Jenna frowned again, ‘Ok… well it’s supposed to be a good role, a BAFTA winning potential you know so yeah I’d like it… I know I’ve not even read it,’ she laughed, ‘but you seemed so keen… I can work with most people Emma..’

‘I know it’s just….’ Her agent paused. ‘It might be awkward? I don’t know, I don’t know the details.’

‘Just tell me who it is!’

A pause. ‘Peter,’ Emma said. ‘It’s Peter, he said yes this morning.’

Jenna’s eyes widened. ‘Peter… as in…?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does he know it’s me?’

‘He does now,’ Emma said, ‘They just told him when he accepted it.’

‘And?’ Jenna felt a flood of panic, how had he responded, had he immediately tried to back off or was he deliberately hanging in there. What was he thinking, what did he feel?

‘And he said it wouldn’t be a problem.’

‘He said what?!’ Jenna said loudly. A couple on the opposite corner of the cafe glanced over. ‘he said what?’ Jenna repeated more softly, ‘He knows we… he…’

‘Looks Jenna I don’t know exactly what happened between you but I can hazard a guess, and I’m guessing it was about two years ago, but it sounds like he’s fine, moved on, ok. He said it wasn’t an issue for him if it wasn’t for you.’

Jenna sat back and stared into space. Not an issue for him. Over it. It made her angry and sad. It made her feel stupid for feeling as she did. She swallowed and looked down. He’d managed to repair things then, with Elaine, with his family, she should be pleased. And she should be mature enough to do likewise. So why hadn’t she yet? Why did it still hurt? Maybe seeing him? Maybe instead of making it wore it would actually help pack those feelings away.

She sighed and addressed Emma. ‘Fine,’ she said, ‘If he’s fine I’m fine. Let’s go for it.’

Jenna hung up, her mind and pulse racing, and looked back out the window, at a tall silver haired man on the opposite pavement. Her heart leapt and she flushed before she regained composure and looked again. It wasn’t him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head for Peter and Elaine

Peter hung up the phone and then sat looking at it in the centre of his desk.   To either side of it the piles of scripts towered precariously, under it the one script he’d gone for in the end, the one Elaine liked. Oh the irony was not lost on him, but she was usually right about these things and it was a good choice.

It was powerful, moving, dramatic. It would touch the nation, its synopsis promised and as he read it he had to admit it brought a lump to his throat. It would challenge him, allow his actors wings to expand, and focus him which he needed dearly. So he’d phoned his agent.

‘Yeah, yeah I want to go for it, ‘ _The Mayfly’s Song._ ’

There was a pause while his agent located the details on her computer. She’d been with him a long time, Samantha, organised, efficient, good sense of humour when everything went wrong or fans sent him strange gifts and correspondence. She was never cruel about it, she never mocked them, when she was young, she said, she sent her knickers to members of _Take That._ Her PR abilities had improved since then.

‘Ok…’ she started, ‘ _Mayfly’s Song,_ pick something cheerful why don’t you Pete?’

He laughed.

‘You did read to the end?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ok… just making sure. So you’re going to shoot in Wales, ah… now I get why you want to do this one, old friends?’

‘It’ll do me good,’ he said drawing patterns on the script in front of him, ‘Old friends, force me to go out, do things, stop moping.’

‘You do need to stop moping,’ she agreed. ‘One day you are going to tell me what it’s all about. I’ll force it out of you. I do care Pete, you can tell me, you know if it would help?’

‘Thanks but once I get to Wales I hope to start feeling better. Concentrate on something, get back to work. I shouldn’t have taken all these months off.’

‘You need a rest…’

‘No, it was a mistake,’ he said a little quickly. ‘Go on, what else?’

‘Right so Wales, Cardiff, apartment included, good stuff. Chauffeur driven car, sounding familiar, lift back to London when you need. Good cast, two really promising up and comings as your kids, Judi Dench as your aged aunt….’

‘Judi Dench? I am moving up in the world,’ he said, ‘Isn’t she a bit young to be my mum?’

‘Make up darling,’ Sam said. He laughed again. This was actually sounding quite fun. ‘That just leaves your opposite number who wasn’t cast when I got this email…they were after someone in particular, very cagey about it… hang on someone stuck a post-it on…. Oh! Well this is going to work out really well.’

‘It is?’ he sounded doubtful.

‘Oh absolutely, you couldn’t find anyone better if you tried. You know one another, you get on, great chemistry, great fan base for the pair of you….’

Peter’s heart was sinking, sinking and racing at the same time. He could feel it coming, the inevitable name that filled him with fear and excitement in equal measure. Sam rambled on a little more before she said, ‘Jenna, they’ve cast Jenna!.’

Peter stared at the script and the shapes he had drawn. Little circles, spinning in on one another, decreasing and vanishing. Shit.

‘Peter?’

He couldn’t answer for a moment. Jenna. Sam had never really been aware of Jenna and what had happened. He doubted she even suspected. She was a great agent but not one to pick up on subtleties. As far as she was concerned he and Elaine were happy as Larry. He sighed and she caught it.

‘Pete? Hello?’

‘Sam…’

‘I thought you’d be delighted?’ she said bemused, ‘I mean Jenna, you guys, you work great together.’

‘Yeah, we did,’ he said quietly.

‘So…? The question hung in the air and he had to answer. And answer quickly and convincingly if he was to avoid suspicion. What had he told Elaine last week? That he would try. That he would work, and act and come home and be her husband. That he would rekindle what was lost if he possibly could. That he loved her still and cared deeply and wanted to make it work. That he would stop thinking about Jenna. That two years was long enough to get over one weekend.

Any normal person could manage that, he thought. Any normal person would be fine with it. It was just a weekend, it stirred some feelings, those feelings should have waned by now. Jenna’s should have waned. She was a sensible young woman and always had been, she would have moved on even if there wasn’t a boyfriend on show. She probably had one anyway, in private, her relationship protected. She wouldn’t still be alone; she was too special. So she’d be OK, if he appeared and took the part, she’d handle it. She was tough.

He cast aside any doubts about Jenna. He could be just as mature, just as strong. Perhaps this would even help. Perhaps this would aid the process of converting those feelings into friendship. He’d often thought cutting off all contact was an unrealistic and damaging thing to do. That they should have faced things. So maybe this was some sort of divine intervention. Maybe he should just…

He knew he was just convincing himself of untruths, both applied to him and Jenna. That if he said yes to this project he would be kidding himself and inviting problems. _Huge_ problems. But… he sighed, tempted, under pressure. He missed her. What to do?

‘Peter!’ Sam said loudly.

‘Sorry… thinking.’

‘Well hurry up,’

‘Yes,’ I’ll do it,’ he said. He shut his eyes. He’d done it now.

‘You’re sure, it took you like an hour to decide? Well five minutes of silence anyway.’

‘I’m sure,’ he said looking down at the doodles. A young woman’s delicate profile, her long lashes and funny little nose so familiar. He smiled sadly. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Great, you guys need to meet up with the producer, director, a slot’s been arranged lunchtime, Tuesday, I’ll email you the details, they want to know if you can go over to Cardiff.’

So there he was. Doodles finished, project picked, and a feeling between joy and nausea in his guts. Jenna. Jenna to play opposite him. Not as a companion, not as a daughter, not as a platonic friend. She would play his lover, and he’d read the script so he knew what that entailed. But she must have known he was in the running if the producer had picked her for the role. She may even have suggested him; his stomach did summersaults at the idea. She hadn’t at least taken his name off the list. He felt a thrill of something he’d long lost and then immediately beat it down.

He wasn’t going there for _those_ feelings. He was going there to be her friend only. To turn back the clock to way before that weekend and end this once and for all. He wrote her name next to his sketch; his project. He was going to set things to rights for the sake of his marriage.

He would do the right thing.

Peter took a deep breath and looked up at the study door. Elaine was leaning against it as she often did. He didn’t need her to say it but she often listened in these days.

‘Get the job?’ she asked cheerfully, completely unaware of whom he had been speaking.

‘Um… yes,’ he confirmed, yes I did.’

‘Oh Peter, I’m so pleased,’ she came nearer. ‘Once you get back into a routine, once you’re focused, you will feel so much better, so much more like your old self. Which one did you go for in the end?’

‘You’re right it will make me feel better…’ he stood and came around the desk, trying to put distance between himself and the traitorous script, but Elaine stepped behind him. He couldn’t just grab it as it would look so strange and he couldn’t exactly push her back again. Elaine looked at the manuscript quickly. Her face darkened.

‘What’s that?’ she asked.

‘Nothing, just doodling.’

‘Oh come off it Peter, you doodle but you doodle recognisable _significant_ things. That’s a portrait. Of _her._ Again! Like the one in the bloody studio!’

He flushed, absolutely caught. Elaine looked at him in disbelief her hands on her hips. ‘You phone your agent to get a job to try and make things better for us, for our relationship, and while you’re discussing that you’re thinking about Jenna!’

‘It wasn’t like that; I wasn’t thinking about her…’

‘Well she obviously popped into your head!’

‘No, no she didn’t, well not until…’ he trailed off and Elaine’s eyes flashed.

‘Until?’ she picked up the script and examined the cover. ‘Oh my God,’ she muttered. ‘’Lunch Tuesday?’’ she stared up at him, ‘Lunch Tuesday? You already have a date?’

‘It’s not a date the producer and director are there too. It’s a warm up.’

Elaine slapped the script back down on the desk. ‘She’s in the drama?! She’s playing your bloody girlfriend isn’t she?’

He looked away.

‘Jesus Christ Peter! All perfectly innocent then?’

‘Yes,’ he lied to himself. ‘It’s just a role. I didn’t realise it was going to be her. I can’t just drop out because it is. I just thought… I thought cutting all contact hadn’t worked. Maybe we need to be adults and meet one another.’ It sounded pathetic to him too.

‘Meeting one another is one thing, that I could maybe stretch to, maybe you do need to talk, but you’re planning to play opposite her in a tragic love story! You’re an idiot! You’re unbelievable. I don’t believe for a minute this is innocent. How can you do this?’

Her anger had drained the colour from her face and she shook with adrenaline. Something inside Peter recognised that whatever had held his wife together for the last wo years was on the verge of shattering. The sick feeling grew worse, he didn’t know how to stop this, it was an avalanche on a mountainside and he was directly in its path, him and the shattered remains of a thirty year relationship.

‘Elaine…’ he tried.

‘Shut up!’ she rounded on him with absolute ferocity, her cheeks blanched. ‘Shut up I don’t want to hear it, any of it, I don’t want to hear what you thought you were doing, what you thought would help, because it won’t. You have never moved on, _never_ , and I have lived in the shadow of that girl ever since. And you know the ridiculous thing I started this, I _gave_ you that weekend… and now… _now_ I suggest you go back to work…. ‘Do something Peter,’ I say, and ‘Oh isn’t this a good script?’ and lo and behold it’s the _one_ bloody script that she is involved with…. And you go for it. _You go for it_! You’ve fallen for her and I keep h _elping_ you get together! Well not any more. I want you to think very carefully about what you do next….’ She paused, breathless and then lowered her voice, ‘Come and talk to me when you decide.’

Elaine stormed from the room and left him in the eerie silence that falls after an argument. Peter stood awkwardly by his desk and looked at the script, at the doodle of Jenna. Everything was blowing up around him, all two years’ worth of tension was raining down. His options were to cancel the role and try to fix his marriage, or pack his cases and go early to Wales.

He hovered, turning once to the door when he thought he heard Elaine coming back, and then looking back at the desk. He’d promised himself not five minutes ago he’d try and fix things, but he’d spent two years trying to heal things and he was no further forward. He knew what he had done tonight was clumsy and hurtful and he hated that. Elaine deserved better treatment than this. She deserved more than the half-hearted, morose creature he had become. He didn’t feel like her husband, he didn’t act like him anymore and he felt like the marriage was holding them to ransom.

Peter had an urge to run, for the first time in all those years. Normally she would seek him or he would seek Elaine out and talk, fix things somehow, not that they rowed often. But in the last two years the arguments had come thick and fast and he was tired. Tired of trying, pretending and hurting. Tired of missing the woman he still loved and playacting he didn’t. And if Jenna _had_ moved on, well maybe if he saw her he could too. Something had to change.

His car was outside. He could be in Wales by tonight.

He pressed a number on his phone and Sam answered.

‘It’s Peter… just to say… that’s great about Jenna, I know I sounded a bit off earlier, but yeah it’ll be great to work with her again… and um… that apartment, how quick can I get into it?’


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They haven't seen each other for two years....

Jenna paced in front of the windows of her new Cardiff based apartment. She had arrived the night before, chauffeured from London, and spent restless hours trying to sleep. She had no idea how she was going to react to this meeting, and in the days running up to her move and arrival in Wales she had done nothing but churn over again and again the last time that she and Peter had seen one another.

It was a goodbye she tried never to think of. She remembered feeling her heart tear as she walked from his house that Monday morning and the following days when she didn’t think she’d ever stop crying. They hadn’t much choice though, the weekend had backfired spectacularly. She and Peter had confessed love that had no place to exist. He was married and that was how it should remain. They parted, knowing they daren’t talk again, daren’t see each other or their feelings would be everyone’s downfall.

For several weeks she had holed up in her house, eating little, losing weight, sitting up late into the night. Peter didn’t call or text. She drank a bottle of wine and sent a pleasing message one evening, but it was never answered. It took a long time to truly realise that nothing was going to change and that the options were carry on or die, waste away and vanish.

Jenna went back to work and was praised for the depth of emotion she brought to her performances, for the quality of her tears. In between takes she sat numbly, waiting for a chance to express her pain again, to cry without people asking why. She began to win awards and accolades like never before.

She stopped and looked out the window, searching for the taxi that would take her to lunch. The producer, Simon, and director Rachel, had organised for Peter and Jenna to meet at Eddie’s Café. They probably thought this was a lovely thing to do, the establishment being used in the final episode of _Doctor Who_ they had filmed together.

Jenna appreciated the sentiment, their attempt to welcome the pair back to Wales, but the thought of sitting there, the same décor, the same music, the same fans milling about and all the memories it brought back of those last days filled her with anxiety. She had barely survived the final takes in the Diner, standing and watching Peter play the guitar, struggling not to cry on film, knowing they had to do it all again on set. She was completely drained when they finally wrapped the episode and it had begun to hit Jenna just a little what he meant to her. It only got worse for them from there.

Now she’d have to climb in a taxi and go back. She’d gave to paint on a mask and chat to the producer and pretend everything was just fine while all the while Peter would be there and she had no idea how she was going to react. Would she be instinctively delighted? Would she cry? Would she over analyse every word he said, every expression that crossed his face? Would she be able to focus at all on the script, the discussion around the plot? Did she still love him the way she had? Had he moved on and had she managed to do the same in any way at all? How was she supposed to suss all of that out while making a meaningful contribution to the script?

The taxi swung in under the window. Time to find out. Jenna checked her hair and make up in the mirror, tugged down her skirt. She was eminently fashionable today, dressed in haute couture which in recent months had served as armour; distracting the press from her face and tired eyes. Now she suddenly felt overdressed. Peter was used to seeing her behind the scenes, relaxed, weekend wear. What would he think of her now?

Jenna realised she was going to end up questioning everything and getting nowhere. She just had to get on and do it. Get down the stairs, get into the taxi, just go and before you know it you’ll be there and the answers will reveal themselves. She made it out the door, just an ordinary Tuesday, just a meeting with the producer, she did this stuff all the time.

She emerged from the building and glanced at the taxi. On the other side of the street two young lads with _Doctor Who_ T-Shirts loitered hopefully. They probably knew this was where the BBC housed its stars, where she and Peter had spent months together. Peter. She looked up at the apartments. Where was he? He must be here by now, unpacked and probably on his way to Eddie’s. The realisation made her pale. She had to get in the taxi, what if he was about to walk out of any of these buildings. She didn’t wait for the driver to open the door but got in the back and slammed it shut.

‘OK let’s go,’ she said cheerfully.

‘Righto…’

To her relief the engine stepped up and they began moving down the street, but not quite in time. Jenna watched as a door opened from the apartments two along from hers and a tall man with silver hair stepped out into the sunshine. He was wearing dark glasses.

‘Oh my God….’ she whispered. The taxi driver glanced in his mirror, mistook her horror for amazement.

‘Oh yes we get them all here, that’s that Doctor Who, though I hear he’s finished with that now. Not sure why he’d be back, maybe doing a special? Nice guy, had him in the back of this very taxi…’

Jenna found herself shrinking down into the seat a little as the driver slowed at the junction. She watched as Peter walked in the same direction as them, his hands in his pockets and in no apparent hurry. He looked laid back and was clearly headed to Eddie’s. Perhaps as her agent had suggested he really did have no problem with her starring alongside him.

She craned her neck to get a last glimpse as they moved and tried to work out how she felt.; she needed to know before she arrived. There were butterflies in her stomach but it felt more like fear than excitement. At the same time he was still as handsome as ever, as slim. He still had that odd elegance he always carried. She wondered how she would cope when he took off his sunglasses in the cafe. That was always her weak spot, his eyes.

Jenna turned back and focused on the road ahead, putting on her own shades for privacy and trying to calm her pulse. She wiped her palms on her skirt, not wanting to feel sticky when she shook hands with the producer. Christ, this was so nerve wracking; no meeting about a part had been this scary since… since _Doctor Who_ she realised. She’d really wanted that one, really wanted the part. Now the part wasn’t as important as the co-star. She bit her lip, that told her a lot about how she was feeling, that single thought.

It didn’t take long to get to Eddie’s and she took her time tipping and paying the driver. She sat for a moment in the back until he looked at her oddly and she realised she’d have to move and opened the door. She had to look confident, look confident! Jenna smiled at the people sitting at tables outside and then went in. She recognised Rachel and the man she assumed was Simon next to her, sitting in a booth.

Simon stood and extended his hand, ‘Jenna! Really nice to meet you at last, we’re so pleased to have you, it’s going to be a wonderful project.’

‘And hopefully despite the storyline we can still make it a fun experience,’ Rachel added, ‘Tough subject matter but that’s why we wanted you and Peter.’

Simon gestured to her to sit and she squeezed into the booth with her back to the door, the other two opposite her.

‘So important to have faith in your actors,’ Simon said, signalling the waitress, ‘For them to know each other so well that they can trust that deeply.’

Jenna felt her smile become fixed.

‘Yes, we’re asking for big emotional leaps here,’ Rachel expanded, ‘You know that if you jump, Peter will catch you, just like he always did before.’

‘Yes, absolutely,‘ Simon said, ‘What’s your view Jenna?’

‘I…’ she stammered and felt herself blush a little. Not a good start, but rescued by the waitress who spent ten minutes explaining the exciting choice of ice cream and milkshakes as well as burgers of all varieties. Jenna suddenly felt like the most she could do was sip on a drink while the others ordered full meals.

‘What will Peter have?’ Simon asked. ‘You know him best.’

‘Oh probably a burger with everything, ‘Jenna said a little wistfully, ‘That was always his thing. Huge appetite, you’d never know it from looking at him…’

Simon looked at her curiously? ‘Really? I’ve seen him a few times now this year, you know, trying to get him on board some project or other, he’s not what I’d call a big eater.’

Jenna felt her blush deepen, ‘Oh, oh well maybe I’m just not very observant,’ she joked, ‘Maybe he’s on a secret diet?’

Simon laughed and ordered another burger, but Jenna could feel Rachel looking at her. Bloody women, they always notice, particularly directors trained to pick out tiny details and expressions. She’d worked with Rachel before and she knew how beautiful and subtle her choice of take could be, how much she _saw_ and how much she had seen in Jenna and Peter’s friendship even then _._ Currently she felt like a book being read cover to cover.

The drinks arrived and Jenna could feel herself getting tense. Peter was late, what if he had changed his mind and what if it was down to her? Maybe he wasn’t nearly as calm as he had looked leaving his apartment. Jenna stirred her milkshake and listened to Simon and Rachel who thankfully were deep in conversation about the _Mayfly’s Song._

‘You see I wondered about that,’ Rachel was saying, ‘How quickly do we start to emphasise that aspect of the drama? Do we want to spell it out to the audience early on or keep it hidden?’

‘If it’s hidden it mirrors their own denial…’ Simon replied, ‘This inability to face the obvious human truths about…. Peter!’ he looked up with a grin and immediately stood. ‘We were starting to wonder where you’d got to.’

Jenna froze, clamping her hands around her glass to steady it as it almost toppled. She could not look up.

‘Sorry, got stopped by a couple of kids wanting pictures, can’t really say no,’ Peter shook hands with both Simon and Rachel and then turned to Jenna, still seated and rather motionless.

‘Jenna,’ he said calmly looking down at her, his voice warm, ‘its’ good to see you, may I?’ he gestured to the seat next to her and she nodded dumbly. Oh God. She wanted to cry. She wanted to be able to look at him but she couldn’t trust herself. She peeled her hands from her tall glass.

Peter sat by her and she felt him shift and get comfortable. He never sat square on, she remembered, because it hurt his back. She heard him make small talk and thank them for his order which arrived quickly from where it had been being kept warm in the kitchen. She had to get herself together, she had to act normal. She couldn’t just sit frozen staring straight ahead. They were supposed to be friends, in touch all the time.

‘Well I’ll say the same to you as we were saying to Jenna when she got here,’ Rachel said and Jenna looked directly at her, ‘It’s so good to have you both together again, you share such a chemistry onscreen and such a trust as performers, you’ll benefit from that and so will this drama. It allows you to experiment, to improvise and not feel afraid.’

‘Like old times,’ Peter said quietly. Jenna turned her head and looked at him for the first time but found she couldn’t read him. He kept his gaze directed on his food and his voice largely expressionless but for the standard pleasantry he infused into everything. She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t and it made her feel strangely panicky. She could always read him, she always finished his sentences and predicted his moves. Now she felt shut out somehow.

He made chit chat and she looked down at his hands as he ate. His beautiful, always soft hands. Something was wrong. This wall of standardise response wasn’t Peter. He was anything but standard. He was vibrant and engaging and kind, and he’d just been out seeing some fans. Whenever he did that he was buoyed up and in role and there was none of that boyish excitement about him now. Granted this role was adult, difficult, emotional, but if he took on a project he threw himself into it. He’d usually be in full flow by now, talking with his hands, coming up with a dozen ideas at once.

He was wearing a mask, she realised, just like her but perhaps for different reasons. What was behind it she had no idea, her speculation made her anxious. Was he hurting the way she was? Was he actually absolutely fine but keeping his distance to protect his marriage? Was this how he was going to be all the way through this? Professional but distant? She couldn’t hear the producer anymore, her head was buzzing and the Diner felt suddenly too hot. She finished the last of her cold drink but it did little to cool her and then the walls just started closing in.

She was on the inside of the booth, wall on one side, Peter on the other, new production team opposite and a table full of plates. The noise of the other customers was too loud and she could hear songs on the juke box pounding. She had to move.

‘Sorry,’ she said suddenly, I… I need to…’ she stood, pushing herself up on her hands but the table caught her thighs. She was vaguely aware of Peter moving out of the booth and of her staggering forward. He caught her by the shoulders and straightened her up. Jenna looked around her, the room fading into grey around the edges of her vision and black spots dancing over the furniture.

‘Jenna?’ Peter’s voice the only thing that made sense.

‘I… outside…’ she murmured.

And then he had his arm around her, holding her up and half carrying her out of the door to the cooler air outside. She was vaguely conscious of them passing by the other customers and then sitting at a corner table. She leaned on it heavily and heard him asked someone for water while the chair beside her scrapped across the concrete.

Jenna tried to slow her breathing, realising a little late she was hyperventilating. She felt Peter’s hand on her arm.

‘Hey,’ he said, ‘You OK now?’

She nodded, staring at the table surface.

‘Convince me?’ he asked.

‘I’m fine.’

‘What happened?’

‘Just too warm… nothing serious,’ she said altogether unconvincingly despite his request. She hazarded a glance upwards to find him peering over his sunglasses at her. Somewhere inside it amused her that he’d grabbed them on his way out with her. The damn things were with him everywhere he went.

‘Right,’ he said, just too warm.’

‘Ok, I might have skipped breakfast too…’

He rolled his eyes. ‘And you did that because?’

‘Nervous,’ she admitted.

He took off the shades and squinted at her. ‘Of what?’

She just stared.

‘Of _me_?’ he asked.

Jenna looked down at her hands. ‘I didn’t know how this would go…’she said.

‘Well its going great with you collapsing a few minutes in,’ he countered. ‘You got yourself so wound up about this meeting you’ve brought it to an early conclusion with your near unconsciousness.’His voice was lighter than before, humour in his tone.

Jenna smirked, ‘Sorry, I’m such a girl.’

He sat back and crossed his legs, smirked back.

‘I guess I was just worried about…’ she paused trying to find a good way of putting things.

‘About you and me, after what happened? It’s only me, Jen, you never need to be nervous of me,’ he finished for her. Jenna nodded.

‘I didn’t want things to be awkward,’ she said truthfully enough but holding an awful lot of other stuff back. Things like, I’m terrified because I still love you and I can’t move on with my life and what if this whole thing just makes that ten times more painful because I suspect you’re happily back with Elaine and you don’t even think of that weekend.

‘I don’t want things to be awkward either,’ he said, inscrutable but pleasant. He drew a breath. ‘Friends?’ She wished for a moment she could read his mind. Was he thinking what she was thinking? Was he trying to work out what was in _her_ head? He seemed relaxed, but distant. She glanced again at his hands and spotted his wedding ring, his right hand fiddling with it as he always did when he was nervous or thinking of Elaine. She didn’t know which it was. Jenna felt a wave of fresh pain. He was still with his wife and still most probably very happy, but he couldn’t resist being nice. Being decent. Trying to help Jenna.

Come on Jenna, it’s been two years, let it go. Her head tried to persuade her heart not for the first time and she didn’t see any other way. She couldn’t go through each day on set like this.

‘Friends,’ she agreed, ‘Let’s not be awkward,’ Jenna said and engaged her mock cheer again.

There was a beat and he looked directly at her, his blue green eyes locked on hers and sending a shiver of loss through her body. She had once looked at those eyes and seen love, and for a moment she recognised something similar, but it vanished again before she could name it.

‘That’s a deal,’ he said, ‘Now come back inside, _eat something_ , and let’s see where we start with this thing.’ He stood and extended one arm which she gratefully took in case she was still unsteady and they made their way back to the booth.

Jenna managed the rest of lunch, focused on the script and contributed like she wanted to. Now and then she glanced at Peter and tried to figure him out. Something still didn’t sit right but she couldn’t quite find it and when he turned to her in conversation or brushed against her side she lost her train of thought.

Friends, she reminded herself again and again, that’s what they were now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The read through doesn't go too well...

Peter sat in the low armchair in the apartment’s front room and gnawed at his thumb. The week had been one of the most difficult emotionally he had ever experienced, from the day he left Elaine and drove to Wales, until now, an hour before read through. That first night he had arrived in the dark, let into a still half unfurnished apartment by a porter who wasn’t really expecting him, and crashed out fully clothed on the bed. He hadn’t expected to sleep but the drive must have exhausted him.

He’d filled his time getting the place ready, filling the fridge and buying odds and ends and then he’d turned his attention to the script, reading and re-reading the first episode to be prepared for Wednesday. He knew it would be hard, Jenna’s presence, so he wanted to be as word perfect as possible, to know lines instinctively without referring to the page.

What was on the page was tricky. Beautiful but challenging. The first half episode was simple enough, scene setting, largely Jenna’s scenes, but then the emotions were let loose as the two main characters came together. He began to think he’d have to discuss those scenes with Jenna before the read through but he hadn’t seen her yet and time was ticking. He wasn’t brave enough to contact her and meet alone after all this time, but the producers meeting wasn’t until the day before the reading. They might have to start blind.

And then Tuesday happened at Eddie’s.

Peter shut his eyes against the memory of yesterday. He caught himself chewing his thumb and forced himself to stop, rocking forward on his chair. Christ she didn’t look right. She didn’t look _well._ He’d seen her back as he’d come through the door and she had sat hunched over her drink, tense. Something about her posture made his stomach lurch and when he sat next to her she stared straight ahead, adding to his discomfort. He wasn’t sure at first if it was nerves or ice cold disdain, but she would _not_ look at him.

He did his absolute best at trying to keep calm, trying to seem level. He didn’t want to give off an air of anxiety or a distance, but he knew he was having trouble pitching it just right. Was he coming over as relaxed or disinterested? And in the meantime all he wanted to do was focus on her and ask why? What have you done to yourself? But he couldn’t quite glance across. It was only when she’d moved to try and escape the booth he’d really got a good look at her.

She was grey, her usual perfect complexion dull and made paler by her faint. She’d honestly looked like she was going to pass out completely so he’d grabbed her, on instinct mainly, and ferried her outside where she sat recovering at a table. It was then he realised they were alone for the first time and while part of him was thankful that the pressure of Simon and Rachel’s eyes were lifted, but part of him was terrified because now there was no protection. Him and Jenna, nobody else.

He watched for a minute as she slowed her breathing down and wondered if her hyperventilation was down to him? She looked greyer than ever. Circles under her eyes. Prominent collar bones. Her breath was still coming too quickly and he could see her fighting to stay conscious for another minute. She hadn’t eaten, she said, nerves. It looked like she had been nervous for weeks. He felt guilty somehow, but he hadn’t done that, had he? He didn’t know what to say. He tried to be his old self. Was that the right thing to do or would she think he didn’t care? So he tried to tell her he cared without, without overdoing it.

Everything came out wrong. Peter tried to reassure her but it was difficult when he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He used to read her so well, but now she had this smile, this rictus thing she plastered across her mouth that acted as a shield. Did she hate him? For ending it when it had just started? Did she still feel for him and was trying to hide it? Was she wondering the same things about him?

He tried to be normal, he really did, as laid back as he used to be. He tried a little humour and she seemed receptive but there was still a barrier, a sense of awkwardness and he could see it would take a while to fix. _If_ it could be fixed. He fiddled and fidgeted and said something about being friends. It was a start, or maybe a compromise.

She agreed to it. Or did she? Maybe it was just a civility; a lie deep down. Something inside him ripped open again when she said it. Friends, but sitting looking at her, fragile, beautiful, all he wanted to do was love her. He thought maybe she saw it for a second, did she want that or did she mock him for feeling that way? He hid it again and to avoid the awkwardness they went back inside. They talked drama with Simon and Rachel and Jenna seemed a little better, a little less tense.

He wished he could say the same. The state of her made him fearful, he could see enough to see unhappiness and he immediately blamed himself. The he accused himself of ego. His head whirled and he managed no sleep on Tuesday night. He kept wondering whether to phone her and then chickening out. He could just imagine the long pauses, the awkward words.

So now the read through loomed. Up at the crack of dawn, skipping breakfast himself on Wednesday morning in case he threw up when he saw her. Peter checked his watch and swallowed hard; the read through was creeping closer by the minute and he felt restless. Suddenly he stood up, a decision made, and grabbed his coat and scarf, faithful sunglasses. He would walk to the hall where the read through was scheduled and try and calm down. His usual tactic.

There would be at least one hundred and fifty cast and crew in that building but those types of figures didn’t bother him after a show like _Doctor Who._ He was used to much bigger crews and enormous conventions, halls with seven thousand fans, standing room only. No, he feared one tiny little woman who would be sitting next to him all morning, reading out lines, acting out the part of a woman who loved him. What had he been thinking? How could this ever have been a good idea? She hated him right, or at least was over him? How could they enact scenes like those without dragging up the past?

Sure enough there she was there when he arrived, always early, always organised, sitting at the head of the table where her place marker read her name and then her character ‘Lauren.’ His own, ‘Michael,’ was to Jenna’s left. The crew were leaning against walls with coffee, waiting for everyone to arrive and some waved at him as he went past having worked with him before. At last Peter reached his seat and she glanced up at him with a restrained smile.

‘Hi,’ he said quietly.

‘Hi,’ she looked down onto her script, rearranged her phone and her water.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked quite genuinely.

‘Fine. Not faint anyway,’ she looked away, down the table to her right and tapped her pen. Peter opened his mouth to say something more but felt his mind go blank. For some reason he felt embarrassed, his cheeks heating up as he sat there, so he turned to his own script and pretended to read again the lines he had learned backwards in the preceding days. Jenna kept up her silence until the crew had taken their seats. It didn’t bode well, and the session went downhill from there.

There was no chemistry, no rhythm, they couldn’t even look at one another. At first the crew just allowed for it being eight o’clock on the first morning with a new script. Rachel offered direction in a kind and easy style, but nothing seemed to work. Jenna had most of the set up stuff to start with so the attention was on her. Rachel read through the introductory synopsis and stage directions. Lauren was a woman in her mid thirties working in a café, no husband, and no kids; the first scene was demonstrating how empty her life felt as she spoke with her friend and boss. The crew looked expectantly at Jenna as Rachel finished.

Jenna cleared her throat but didn’t appear to be able to shift the shake in her voice.

‘I’ve been single for so long now,’ she said, ‘I can’t imagine a life with a partner, it’s just become, I don’t know, not a thing for me anymore, not something I think or care about.’

‘You must get lonely?’ read her co-star for the scene.

‘Sometimes, everyone does I think…’

‘So what’s putting you off?’

‘I never found anyone good enough… not anyone who wasn’t already taken or…’ she trailed off mid sentence and the crew waited. She sat staring at the page.

Jenna was reading like an automaton, drinking water, fretting and twiddling her hair whenever it was someone else’s line. Peter’s surprise was as great as the crews. No matter what she was going through Jenna always turned out a stellar performance, he had witnessed that himself.

Peter was introduced in the next scenes. A widower of several years standing, reading in the café. A fairly standard set up made more interesting by the quality of the script and the lines. The two characters were supposed to engage in delightful banter, an instant heart-warming chemistry full of hope for Lauren, had she finally met the right man? But this time the balance swung the other way, and the scene began to crumble in front of the crew’s eyes. Peter overacted while Jenna retreated into herself. He had no idea why he couldn’t reel himself in, calm it down. He just over performed again and again while Jenna nibbled her nails next to him and looked for all the world like she might cry. The team began to look genuinely worried and he was beginning to think the whole project would collapse if they couldn’t get their act together.

‘Ok let’s stop there,’ Rachel said an hour in, an early break, much to everyone’s relief. Peter exhaled and wiped his brow, glancing at his co-star who was still fiddling with her nails nervously. She suddenly glanced back up at him with a look that mirrored his. A look that said ‘this is a disaster.’ He’d speak to Jenna in the break, when the others were gone. But Rachel got to them first.

‘You two, can I have a word,’ she called just as he stood ready to escape. The crew filed out and she waited for them to be leave, for privacy. Jenna stayed seated, her hair hiding her face. She knew as well as he did it was that the morning was a catastrophe.

Rachel bid him sit down again and he did, like an obedient schoolchild in front of the headmistress. She pulled up a chair and sat in front of both of them, the desk forming a barrier.

‘Guys…’ she said, opening her arms a little, ‘I… just what’s going on?’

Peter looked down at the script, still open at the last scene, pen markings in the margins, brilliant wit in every line, nothing working for them. Jenna said nothing. Rachel looked between them.

‘I’m not an idiot,’ she said eventually, ‘There’s been something wrong at least since you got to Wales. You weren’t yourselves yesterday either. Jenna?’

‘I was just a bit faint,’ Jenna said quietly. Rachel looked at her with an expression of complete disbelief.

‘I’m going to say what I saw,’ she said, and something in her tone told Peter she meant business. ‘You were fine until Peter arrived. Maybe a bit edgy which was odd, but then Peter got there and you just… well literally collapsed.’

Jenna flushed next to him, Peter found himself doing something similar. He started playing with his hair and then stopped himself. He had various tells and an observant woman like Rachel could spot them at some distance.

‘You guys have a fight?’ she tried.

‘No,’ they said almost simultaneously. ‘No, not a fight,’ Peter added.

Rachel again looked between them. ‘Look, your secrets are safe with me but we have to find a way to make this work. So if this is something you think I can help with, something you need to talk about in order for you two to be besties again…’

Silence. Rachel sighed.

‘Ok when did you fall out? Start at the beginning.’

‘We haven’t got time for all this,’ Peter said defensively.

‘Well right now we’ve all the time in the world because right now it’s either that or I recast, and I’m not really wanting to go there,’ Rachel said.

‘It’s not that bad!’ Peter said outraged.

‘Yes, it is,’ Jenna muttered. ‘She’d right, we can’t work like this.’

‘Great,’ Rachel agreed, ‘So, when? This, week, last week? What’s it about? ‘

Peter sighed and sat back in his chair, folded his arms defensively. He looked at Jenna who was still bent over a little, hiding her face. ‘Go, on,’ he said, ‘You go first.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t know… Rachel will probably be sympathetic to you, I’ll just get written off as another cheating…’ he stopped and grit his teeth. ‘Because it was all my fault and I should have known this would happen and its ruined everything.’

Rachel raised her eyebrows and looked at Jenna who finally returned her gaze.

‘It was once,’ she said, ‘One weekend and not since.’

Rachel looked distinctly unsurprised at the confession. ‘Not since? The weight of that depends on _when_ it was, If it was three days ago it’s a different kettle of fish from three months...’

‘Two years ago,’ Jenna said and returned to her slouched, miserable posture. This time Rachel did look shocked.

‘Have you guys … I mean things are still so tense… after all this time?’

‘We haven’t been in contact,’ Peter explained, ‘We thought it was for the best.’

‘Your wife thought it was for the bast,’ Jenna said a little icily.

‘Well she was hardly going to welcome you back into our home was she?’

‘It was her _bloody_ idea in the…’ she stopped aware of Rachel’s increasingly shocked expression.

‘I don’t need details,’ Rachel said quickly, waving a hand. ‘I can imagine… You had a thing, you got caught, you went your separate ways. And now, what, two years on you can’t be friends again? You two were joined at the hip, one weekend shouldn’t destroy that. What’s that about, really?’ she sounded like a woman asking a question she already knew the answer to.

Peter and Jenna chose to look silently off to one side, like bookends avoiding each other’s gaze. He wondered briefly why Rachel was taking it all so calmly. Had they been obvious, had their feelings been written all over their faces for months before it even happened? God he felt like an idiot, sitting there being lectured on his mistakes and his love life by his director.

‘I’m cancelling read through,’ Rachel said suddenly.

‘What?’ Jenna reacted.

‘We’ll reschedule it for tomorrow.’

‘But if we fall behind schedule now…’ Peter said.

‘We won’t be getting anywhere at all unless you sort yourselves out,’ Rachel reinforced, ‘Now go home both of you, or better still go someplace neutral. A pub or a café or something and sit down and talk. Properly talk, not about the script or this drama, but about what’s been going on for two years and how to make it better. Think about it, about what you’re doing, about what you _feel._ ’

Peter looked over at Jenna who cautiously returned the favour.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

She pressed her lips together nervously, seeming shaky before she shrugged in an attempt to look casual. ‘Got to be done, right? I mean… we were shit this morning weren’t we?’

He laughed despite the tension and he saw her lips twitch into an anxious smile. She looked down at the pen she was twirling now in her fingertips and he saw her breath out.

‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘We were. We can be a lot better than that. _A lot better_.’

He reached out, nervous of her response and squeezed her hand gently, once. Jenna looked up at him and for the first time since meeting with her again, her smile reached her eyes.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Jenna discuss their relationship...

Peter opened the door for her and allowed her to step down into street ahead of him. She was so, so glad to be out of the read through, the whole morning from the moment she got up, had gone wrong. Her hair wouldn’t do what she wanted it to, she felt sick from the start, and when she had got out of her taxi she had gone over on one of her ridiculously high heels. Her ankle was throbbing as she waited for Peter to pull the hall door to.

‘So um… where do you fancy?’ he asked, ‘For this heart to heart? Your place, my place, the pub down the road?’

Jenna glanced around them, ‘Wherever it is, can it be close by? I um… I did my ankle this morning.’ She looked up at him feeling strangely stupid. Peter cocked an eyebrow at her from behind his sunglasses and then looked down at her feet.

‘What’s with the gigantic shoes?’ he asked sounding incredibly Doctor Who-ish, ‘I mean even more gigantic than usual?’

‘I’m all top end fashion these days.’

‘So I see,’ his eyes travelled up her body and she felt distinctly warm. ‘That outfit? Comfortable?’

‘No,’ she admitted sadly. ‘I wish I was wearing jeans, or a nice pair of cropped trousers… Peter,’ she said suddenly, ‘What am I doing?’

‘Not entirely sure what you’re asking,’ he admitted.

‘The clothes! I don’t feel like me anymore, and God only knows what you think looking at me. I mean _look_! I’ve got stupid clothes and a stupid enormous bag and stupid,’ she kicked off one shoe, ‘ _stupid_ designer shoes that are trying to kill me!’ the second shoe came off and she bent to retrieve them, shoved them in her bottomless bag. She glanced up and saw Peter’s expression, ‘it’s bigger on the inside,’ she said.

Peter burst out laughing in a way she hadn’t see for those whole two years apart. He had a unique and infectious laugh which could rapidly dissolve into a childlike giggle and take all semblance of maturity from him. Sure enough her own smile became broader as she stood in front of him a good four inches shorter than before. She’d forgotten how tall he was, like this she didn’t even reach his shoulder. To fix the height difference a little he lent against the wall of the hall and creased in the middle for a moment before catching her eye again mid chuckle.

‘Well that broke the ice a bit,’ he said.

Jenna blushed. ‘God, Peter this is so awkward. It was bad enough yesterday but it’s even worse today… reading it out, knowing where it’s going, having to actually work as a team again, everyone looking and...’

‘Forget the script,’ he said.

Jenna raised her eyebrows, ‘Err I just spent like three weeks learning as much as I could of it.’

‘Not literally,’ he said pushing himself off the wall again and placing a guiding hand on her back. Jenna’s mind went a bit fuzzy at the sensation, the thin material of her top between his warm hand and her skin. There was a time neither of them thought anything of that. ‘Jenna?’ he checked.

‘Sorry, you were saying?’

‘You OK to walk round the corner? There’s a café there?’ he asked, ‘It’s that or I have to carry you, I’m too mean to hire a taxi for a couple of hundred yards.’

Jenna snorted, ‘Carry me? You’d never manage that.’ An image floated into her head of him lifting her into his arms that weekend, laying her down on the bed. He was stronger than he looked and she weighed even less now than she did then. She felt a sadness wash over her.

‘Jenna…’ he said softly, ‘Stop it. Stop whatever you are thinking about and stay with me here in the present if you can,’ she looked up at him guiltily.

‘Sorry, again… let’s go, let’s walk…’

They strolled around the block until the café came into sight and Jenna was able to take a seat outside. She kept on her shades and kept her back to the passing public just in case, although she knew Peter would attract more attention than her on a Cardiff street. _Doctor Who_ was always going to be the famous one no matter how successful she became.

He slid her coffee over to her and sat at right angles.

‘So I was saying, forget the script,’ Peter started again, ‘because it’s you and me we need to discuss. If we can fix that a bit, the script will just work.’

Probably, he was probably right but, Oh God, getting to that point where she could play his girlfriend and feel in any way comfortable with it. Impossible. ‘Where do we start?’ Jenna said mournfully.

‘I guess at the beginning, as Rachel suggested.’

‘Why wasn’t she more surprised?’ Jenna wondered out loud.

‘She’s a bright woman, it was quite obvious to everyone back then how much we cared about each other, people just assumed that there was a line drawn. Which there was,’ he confirmed, ‘Until there wasn’t.’

‘Until that weekend. I swear Peter I never expected it to blow everything out of the water the way it did.’

Peter stirred his coffee and added more sugar. ‘Neither did I… no wait… that’s not strictly true, I knew it had potential but I thought I could deal with it. I thought because Elaine had rubber stamped the whole thing I could do what I wanted and not have consequences.’

‘Ah… consequences. I know all about those,’ Jenna said and blew on her cappuccino. ‘Were yours the same as mine?’

‘My career didn’t do as well as yours, but in that I couldn’t see you for two years, yes.’

‘Elaine’s insistence,’ Jenna added.

‘And mine,’ he confessed. ‘I panicked, threw myself into my marriage, tried to delete you from my memory.’

‘Understandable.’ Jenna sipped the scolding coffee. ‘Ouch! That’s like lava!’

Peter smiled.

‘So… how did the throwing yourself into your marriage thing go?’ Jenna asked carefully.

‘It didn’t particularly. I tried but I couldn’t stop thinking of you, so I was moping about, singing daft love songs and painting portraits.’

Jenna giggled.

‘I’m serious!’ he said, Jenna’s face fell.

‘That wouldn’t go down well?’ Jenna said a little horrified.

‘No,’ he said grimly, ‘Things were never really the same,’ Peter opened his complimentary biscuit and dunked it in his coffee. ‘But we tried, we both tried, lots of things. It was OK while I was still doing the show, but since I’ve been home full time it’s been more and more difficult. Part of me doing this drama was Elaine insisting I get a job again. Irony, eh?’

Jenna’s heart was thumping listening to him describe his marriage in past tense. She kept waiting for the punchline. For him to say ‘but then we fixed it,’ but it wasn’t coming.

‘Do you remember the portrait I did of you?’ he asked out of the blue.

Jenna’s eyes widened, ‘Oh God, the naked one?’

‘Yes. The nude…’ he corrected, ‘It was very artistic I’ll have you know.’

‘Sorry, I’m a bit of a peasant when it comes to art.’ Peter laughed at her.

‘Anyway I finished it, hung it in the studio.’

‘You got a photo?’ she asked.

‘Probably, somewhere… but the thing is Elaine spotted it recently. Hit the roof. Took it and some other stuff as more evidence our marriage just isn’t making it. And then…’

‘Then...?’ Jenna could hardly breathe.

‘She worked out I’d taken this job and that you were in the cast.’

‘Oh,’ she couldn’t take her eyes from him. ‘Did she freak out?’ Stupid question Jenna, stupid.

He raised his eyebrows and looked into his drink. ‘You could say that. I ended up making a choice.’ He looked up at her. Jenna tried to read his expression but he was clearly trying to control what he was giving away. ‘I don’t want you to panic,’ he said.

‘Best way to make me panic, tell me not to panic’ Jenna replied, ‘What is it?’

‘We argued, she asked me to make a decision and I thought back over our marriage, over all the happiness we’d had and then over the last two years and how miserable it’s been. How much I miss you, how much I still… think of you… and I realised the damage has been done.’

‘What are you saying?’ Jenna asked slowly.

Peter took a deep breath and looked skyward for a moment. ‘I’m saying I left Elaine this week and came here. A few days early actually, I just wanted to get away, think, pull myself together a bit before you arrived.’

‘Wait… wait a minute,’ Jenna brought him to a halt. ‘You’ve left Elaine, the love of your life?’

‘Elaine hasn’t trusted me since that weekend and nothing we do seems to repair it. And in a way maybe that’s just how it has to be because deep down, I’m not thinking of her,’ he said, ‘I still think of you.’

Jenna flushed, ‘I am not responsible for your marriage! I mean maybe if you guys had split at the time but its two years down the line and…’

‘I’m not apportioning blame Jenna,’ he soothed.

‘I should bloody well think not. She started it, it was her idea!’

‘I said I wasn’t apportioning blame. For whatever reason she and I, we don’t work like we used to and after two years it’s time to face that.’

Jenna fell quiet, a hard knot of guilt in her chest. This was her fault, she could feel it, Peter was just being his usual self and being kind. She sat stirring her coffee.

‘So I left her,’ he said a little disbelievingly, ‘and came here as I said.’

‘Don’t assume we can just get together,’ Jenna said quickly. Peter looked at her, startled.

‘Umm I hadn’t said anything,’ he said confused. ‘I admit, it would be nice to think…’

Jenna felt a pang of a different sort of guilt. ‘I know, I know it’s just, you’ve just left Elaine. That’s huge. You’ll be all over the place…’

‘Actually I feel better now we’re speaking…’ he started.

‘That’s not the point. You need recovery time. You need no more emotional upheaval. God the last thing you actually need is me right now, how much do I complicate things further?’ she spoke in phrases, boxing ideas and emotions. Peter had had a major life change. He needed to adapt. His old feelings for her might cloud things and that wasn’t fair. Jenna needed to back off. This was all her fault in the first place. The last one underlined everything in her thought process.

Peter was still looking a bit confused and Jenna’s heart ached for him. She took his hand on the table. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘It’s just I don’t want to confuse things further. If we were to… I mean I’m assuming… You do still,’ she put her hand to her mouth, ‘God I’ve been assuming you, I mean you said you thought of me…’

‘I still love you, Jen,’ he said, ‘Let that be very clear. That’s never, ever changed.’

‘You haven’t seen me in all this time, it could have changed after all?’

Peter just shook his head at her. ‘I did wonder that you know? If you’d been put on a pedestal and worshipped for so long the whole nature of my feelings had changed, but now I’ve seen you,’ he looked up at her, ‘I’ve seen you and everything is just the same, how I feel when I look at you, think of you. It’s still there. It’s just there’s all this other messy stuff making things awkward and I want to try and clear that up a bit.’

Jenna nodded, ‘Me too. I mean I want to clear the mess. I don’t want this to be awkward, I want our friendship back to how it was, I want those fun times. I’m just worried what we did was so wrong that we don’t deserve any of that.’

‘Oh Jenna,’ he rubbed his forehead, ‘I think we’ve been punished enough, don’t you?’

‘Maybe,’ she stared thoughtfully at the froth in her cup.

‘Jenna?’ he asked after a moment, his voice smaller than before, ‘You said you wanted our friendship back to how it was?’

‘Yes,’ she said smiling hard, ‘definitely.’

‘Am I… I mean is there any point in me hoping for more than that? Or do you just think… we should avoid that side of things? Have I scared you off?’

Jenna watched his face for a moment and felt the warmth from his hand in hers. He looked so sincere, and also a little frightened and that scared her. He’d just said he felt the same as back then and she wanted that but she felt so guilty. He was sitting there a man who had left his wife of thirty years in part if not completely because of her. How could she endorse being with him when she was to blame, regardless of what he said?

‘Peter I… I just want to see how things go. I mean Elaine…’

He sighed and withdrew his hand and she saw his jaw clench.

‘Peter you only left her a few days ago, what if you regret it, what if you go back? If we’d got together and then you vanished…’

‘I wouldn’t do that, Jenna.’

‘Peter I never expected you to leave Elaine, and I’m betting you didn’t either. There’s no telling what you might do at the moment. No, no I’m not having a go… I’m just saying now’s a difficult time and I can understand that. I can wait. Maybe we should just…’

‘Be friends?’ he said drily. ‘Jenna my marriage is over, I’m certain of it.’

She looked at him sadly, ‘You’re certain?’

‘Yes!’

‘Then why are you still wearing your wedding ring?’ she asked.

Peter looked down at his hand in surprise. ‘I… I…’

‘It’s OK,’ she said, ‘You don’t have to hurry to take it off, I’m just saying you can’t rush this, emotionally… maybe you know if you feel the same about things in a few weeks we can…’

‘A few weeks?’ he said, ‘Jenna I have been breaking my heart over you for the last two years! Don’t doubt me, I’m not changing my mind…’

She hated to see him like that, clearly hurting, so obviously in pain but she forced herself to stick to what she had said. Peter was usually a stoic, a quiet Scotsman who rarely expressed emotion this way; for him to be reacting to her like this was in itself an indication his feelings were very close to the surface.

‘One day at a time, Peter,’ she said. ‘One step…’

She watched in horror as he pulled the wedding ring from his finger, the ring he never took off and wore with such pride for over a quarter of a century. He dropped it onto the table between them and looked up at her defiantly.

‘Step one,’ he said.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel grows increasingly impatient with her stars. Peter grows impatient with Jenna.

_Are you coming home this weekend?_

Peter navigated away from the text without replying, surreptitiously secreted the phone in his back pocket and returned to staring blankly across the set. The lighting guys were adjusting something and he could see Rachel talking to them with a certain amount of animation. She was increasingly annoyed and he sighed impatiently, it had been a long ten days.

Ten days into production. The old Jenna and Peter would by now be inseparable, constantly chattering and telling bad jokes, finding excuses to tease one another and just hang out between takes. If you were looking for one, first find the other. Things were still not quite the same; things hadn’t quite resumed between them on a normal level, but he had to admit, things were a lot better. They were friends, at least.

They’d gone back to the read through on Thursday a little more relaxed. After dramatically dumping his wedding ring on the table of the café, Peter had attempted to pull himself together, realising drama was not going to be helpful when emotions were running so high for both of them. Jenna had looked stricken when he’d removed his wedding band, her face paling with horror and he’d felt almost immediately guilty, but, he’d explained, his marriage really was finished, symbolism or not, and he would prove that to her, even if it did take longer than he would prefer.

Jenna had conceded and watched him pocket the ring. She wanted so badly for things to be ‘normal’ between them, whereas he just wanted to bury his head in the crook of her neck, in her breast, inhale the scent of her skin and lose himself in the sensation of her. It wasn’t even a sexual thing, he realised, but a need to be close to her, entangled, somehow protected. He just wanted to be allowed to love her as he never had before, their embryonic love had been cut off so quickly two years ago. Peter just wanted to be allowed to let it live again.

However, Jenna was sensible, she always was and what she had said about needing time, about him making a huge adjustment to his psychological landscape was probably right. He could tell by the way he was reacting to these texts. After a couple of days of feeling like he just wanted Jenna _right now_ , they started to trickle in and with each one a worry or doubt appeared to plague him. They didn’t last long, just tiny quibbling thoughts that he pushed away quickly, but they did demonstrate to him that he was shaky. He felt oddly ashamed. He’d made a decision and one he was sure of, but then he’d get a text from his wife and he’d wobble for a minute. Jenna, being Jenna, was understanding and that made him feel worse.

She appeared by his side on the set. They were due to shoot another of the ‘getting to know each other’ scenes for the first episode. So far things had gone well, their old on screen chemistry returning even if there were still some awkward moments in real life. Jenna crossed her arms and stood next to him, watching the lighting men and occasionally glancing at him sideways.

‘You ok?’ she asked.

‘Mmhmm.’

‘You’ve got another message haven’t you?’ she sounded worried.

‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘But honestly its ok.’

‘Have you replied… to any of them?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘Don’t you think you should?’ Jenna asked.

Peter looked down at her and frowned. ‘What? Why would you of all people say that?’

She shrugged, ‘If I was in her position, I’d at least want to know you were alive…I’d at least want a response, you owe her that much, you can’t just ignore her.’

Peter sighed and went back to watching the set. Jenna, sensible Jenna was of course right again. ‘What am I supposed to say?’ he asked.

‘It doesn’t have to be much; I’m not saying get drawn into a massive debate about the future. Just let her know you’re ok.’

Peter kicked one foot against the ground and looked down. ‘She wants to know if I’m coming home this weekend. If I’m driving back tonight.’

‘Oh,’ Jenna’s voice was blank but this clearly changed things for her. ‘What… I mean what _are_ you doing?’

‘I’m not sure, it rather depends.’

‘On?’

He made a frustrated movement, ‘Oh come on Jenna you know what it depends on! Are you staying in Wales or are you being chauffeured back?’

‘I… I hadn’t decided,’ she said.

Peter huffed next to her. He was aware he sounded impatient, childish, pushy but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. His head had been in turmoil all week. She’d wanted some time; he’d given her some time. Now he wanted some, dammit. He wanted some quality uninterrupted time, just her and him, no director, no crew, no interfering texts which turned his heart upside down every time they came through.

On cue his phone buzzed again. Jenna caught the sound. He took it from his pocket and checked.

_I can see you can’t even be bothered to answer. Thirty years and I don’t even get one text._

He flinched. It wasn’t like Elaine to be passively aggressive like that. He drew a long breath and tried to think what to do.

‘Just answer it,’ Jenna said, ‘Please, right now it doesn’t much matter what you say just acknowledge her, tell her… tell her you need thinking time, anything, just answer it!’

‘Will you please stop being all understanding and perceptive and _correct_ all the time,’ he muttered.

‘That’s me all over… answer for everything,’ Jenna said sadly.

 _Staying in Wales,_ he typed, _need time._

He hit send and winced. He didn’t need time at all it was a blatant lie. He needed Jenna.

‘I’ve just decided to stay here this weekend,’ he said without looking at her. ‘Cowardly I suppose.’

Jenna sniffed, ‘Not really, I mean, cowardly for avoiding Elaine, maybe? But you’re having to face me, us, so less cowardly that way.’

He looked down at her where she still stood stiffly with folded arms, ‘You’re staying too?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can we…?’

‘Let’s just see how it goes,’ Jenna said for the hundredth time that week. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to cry or scream. She sensed his tension and finally turned towards him.

‘Peter we talked about this. You’re vulnerable right now. We need to take things slowly, sensibly, not just add more emotions to the mix.’

He set his jaw and looked off towards the set. He was not going to beg. He’d gone round the houses arguing his case, asking her nicely, throwing himself into their friendship as they slowly rebuilt it over the last week. He’d stayed last weekend too and they’d met for lunch and the next day for dinner. Plenty of food but he felt like she was rationing him when it came to her time. Ok, he’d do that, he’d do anything, so he’d gone along with it.

Then they’d been filming, rehearsing, reading but it was mostly Jenna’s stuff with minimal input from him for a few days so he’d left het to her own devices and again met her in the evenings. It gave him a n thrill to ‘pick her up’ from where they were shooting and take her somewhere, like a real actual date and she seemed to enjoy it and relax a bit. He even sent flowers to her apartment and didn’t receive any complaints about going too fast, too full on. He’d become properly optimistic for a while.

This week as he’d been introduced to the drama he tried to step up the time they had together beyond playing opposite each other. That work together in the day, hang out together at night thing. He wanted to create that living in each other’s pockets comfort they had always experienced before. He needed comfort, god only knew how much he needed comfort, but they weren’t quite there. He wanted to be snuggled up on her couch of an evening but she kept her door firmly shut and his heart sank, feeling like they’d gone backwards again. Between that and Elaine’s contacts he felt confused and low.

He could feel Jenna looking at him as he stood resolutely not emoting.

‘Don’t be like that Peter,’ she said.

‘I’m not being like anything,’ he replied and heard her sigh.

‘Fine,’ she muttered. He glanced down at her angrily, knowing he wasn’t really angry at all just frustrated and hurting and wishing he could somehow undo the mess that was his life right now. Even so, a cuddle in front of a boxset wouldn’t be much to ask.

He watched as Rachel approached them from the other side of the set.

‘Sorry about the delay,’ she said, ‘Slight change of plan.’

‘Oh?’ Jenna asked.

‘Going to go for a different scene,’ she said without so much as offering any kind of explanation. Peter’s own director’s ears pricked up, immediately suspicious.

‘Which scene…?’ he asked.

Rachel looked like she was bracing herself for their response. ‘The um... the one where the café is shut for the evening and its Michael’s birthday…’

Jenna’s eyes widened, ‘The kiss scene? You can’t just dump that on us no warning!’

Rachel almost took a step back from Jenna due to her sheer volume. ‘Well you know it’s either today or Monday, but it’s going to be soon and I think we should just go for it, get it in the can….’

‘But…Rachel…’Jenna exclaimed before lowering her voice, ‘Rachel you know this is awkward for us, we need a bit of warning.’

Rachel’s face darkened a shade. ‘Jenna do you have any idea how much leeway you are both getting at the moment? How much I’ve already tweaked the schedule so you can both spend time discussing things and getting comfortable with one another.’

‘I…’ Jenna started. ‘I never asked you to do that, you never said…’

‘Even if I had you probably wouldn’t have remembered,’ Rachel said and sighed. ‘Honestly Jenna you’ve both been so wrapped up in whatever is or isn’t going on with your right now, and I get that, I do, I’m trying to be supportive but we have a drama to make…’

Jenna looked chastised. ‘I know… I didn’t realise we were holding things up. You should have said…’

‘I wanted to be supportive,’ Rachel said, ‘I still do, but we’re behind and this would be a big help….to everyone… if we could just do this scene.’

She at last looked up at Peter who was standing stock still his heart in his mouth. The kiss scene. The scene with the kiss. Yes, he knew the lines, he knew the context, he had it all learned but like Jenna he hadn’t been expecting it until next week and he’d spent the last while hoping that things between them would just improve and improve until it wasn’t an issue. Christ this was awkward. He couldn’t just kiss her could he? On screen rather than in life? The last time he had kissed her they had been making love. He’d hoped he might kiss her again in that context before he had to on film.

He passed a hand over his face and moaned slightly. Jenna looked at him sharply querying him. He had an image of her beneath him as he bent to kiss her again and flushed. Jenna raised her eyebrows and he became convinced she was reading his mind at which point Rachel caught his eye and made it all worse by apparently reading it too.

‘I know it must be awkward,’ she was saying, ‘Given…. You know… but please… sometimes you just have to get these things done and dusted.’

‘How romantic,’ he muttered. Jenna shot that sharp look at him again.

‘It’s fine..’ she said and he glared at her, ‘It’s fine!’ she said again, her voice giving away her nerves. Rachel nodded and went back to set calling over her shoulder ‘Rehearsal and then we’ll go for it.’

Peter turned to the side and wandered off around the back of the room, in amongst the equipment and darkness, trying to compose himself. Just a kiss, just a kiss, not even a real kiss, a screen kiss. It was just part of the job, and as such he could approach it as a professional. That’s what Jenna would be doing.

He came to a halt behind some rigging and a couple of old chairs and looked back to where Jenna was standing. She was chewing her nails while a make-up artist grabbed the opportunity to highlight her eyes. Yes, she looked the picture of relaxed, he thought sarcastically at himself, no nerves there at all, and for his part his stomach was summersaulting. The pair of them would be trembling jumbled messes and it was not only going to be deeply embarrassing but probably annoy Rachel even further.

Rachel. He was beginning to wonder if she was doing this deliberately, trying to force them back together so her drama could get on and be filmed. So that her leads were a more convincing couple. He snorted, he’d seen directors do worse, but Rachel was a decent woman, she wouldn’t do that. Would she? Suddenly the loudspeaker rang out making him jump.

‘Peter, on set please. Now.’

He’d been summoned. He wiped his damp hands on his trousers and emerged from the back of the room. He didn’t think he’d ever been so scared of one little kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter dedicated to a kiss.

OK, just try and remember the lines, try and remember where you are and what you’re doing. Jenna flicked through the miniature script as she waited for Peter to join her. She was on one end of the red sofa in the café ‘window,’ and soon he would be on the other. She couldn’t help but think of another red sofa she had shared with him and a sunset watched as golden light moved in strands across the floor of his studio. She felt a pang for that night and another for the pain of the following morning.

Her sad train of thought was interrupted by Peter’s arrival, somewhat flustered and also holding a script. He rustled and jangled his way onto the other end of the couch before sitting down and avidly reading. He was chewing his thumb again, it’d be the hair ruffling soon if he got much more anxious.

‘Hi,’ Jenna said with a tiny smile. ‘Try and relax,’ she advised sagely despite her churning stomach.

‘Hi,’ he said, ‘Trying to.’

‘Well this is awkward.’

‘Saying its awkward…That’s becoming one of our favourite ways of saying hello, as in hello Jenna I feel permanently awkward around you,’ Peter said. Jenna laughed. She leaned back slightly and groaned before returning his eye contact. Their friendship was definitely recovering but beyond that was so difficult to even approach.

‘So where do we start?’ she said.

‘From when we sit down?’ he said, ‘Where’s Rachel?’

‘Let’s just rehearse from there, it’s the tricky bit after all,’ Jenna said grimly. ‘The rest of it will come easier.’

‘Right,’ Peter looked over at the crew members who were waiting on their move. ‘Go for it.’

‘You’re first,’ Jenna said, the script a comforting presence in her hand, ‘Here, ‘Won’t you….’’

‘Yeah, sorry, memory…’ he shifted a little closer to her on the couch and held his script instead of a coffee cup. He began to read.

‘Won’t you get into trouble, having an illicit lock-in with a customer?’ he said. ‘It is after six P.M.’

Jenna laughed prettily, ‘No, my boss would be delighted.’

‘Oh?’ he looked surprised.

‘She’d start planning the wedding I think.’

Peter made a speechless sort of face and then said, ‘Wedding?’

‘Relax, that would be her interpretation.’

‘Not yours?’

‘I never said that,’ there was a pause while they locked eyes. Jenna felt something flutter within her, something sweet and familiar. The silence held a little too long for television she realised and eventually Peter tore himself away and back to the script.

‘You know most people would find the idea of us as a couple a little odd,’ Peter said.

‘Why?’ she tucked her legs up on the couch, ‘a tiny ball of Jenna,’ Peter used to call it.

He laughed and flipped a page. ‘I don’t think that really needs an answer does it? Look at you… and then look at me.’

‘I’m looking, I’m not seeing the problem,’ Jenna said.

‘That’s very sweet of you,’ he said lightly and shook his head. He leaned one arm on the back of the couch and looked at her with steady blue eyes. ‘But someone like you should be aiming a lot higher.’

Jenna mirrored his posture, ‘You’re high,’ she said warmly, ‘You’re _very_ high. I mean look at you. Educated, fascinating job, lovely home…. apparently, nice- _ish_ car, pets... maybe...’ he started laughing.

‘You haven’t proof of any of these things, except perhaps the car, I could be making it up to impress you,’ Peter said.

‘Are you?’

‘No,’ he replied.

‘Well then what’s the issue? A girl like me would be lucky to find someone like you.’

‘Really?’ he looked incredulous.

‘What!?’

‘Lauren I’m twice your age,’ he said and Jenna focused her attention on his eyes again, at a sadness he was expressing that looked a little too real. She frowned as she watched it grow and change. ‘I’m twice your age and pretty beaten up, you know, emotionally, since… since my wife….’ He stopped and looked around him, his eyes red, ‘It’s not something anyone wants to take on, all that baggage,’ he explained, ‘Not something they should; not when there are simpler, younger, more attractive options,’ he smiled sadly and faced her again with a shrug.

‘So you think, what?’ Jenna asked, ‘That you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life because you’ve been through some stuff? Because you’re not thirty anymore?’

‘I think I will find it hard to locate anyone who would put up with me,’ he said. ‘Old, grumpy, spend most of my life in cafes chatting to waitresses... I mean that's just creepy.’

Jenna laughed. ‘You’re not that hard to put up with,’ she said sincerely. ‘I…’ she hesitated. ‘ _I’d_ put up with you….’ She cocked her eyebrow experimentally at him as though gaging his reaction.

Peter shook his head again and then looked up, avoiding her eyeline. ‘Oh Lauren that’s very sweet of you again, do I pay you to flatter me? But, well… that wouldn’t be… I couldn’t…’ he scratched the hair at the back of his head, ‘God you’ll be thinking I’ve been trying to chat you up, honestly that’s not what I’m doing….’

‘I know,’ Jenna said. ‘Relax, I know you aren’t stalking me or trying to have your wicked way.’

‘Good, because I really enjoy coming here, having someone to talk to…’

‘It’s what _I’m_ doing,’ she interrupted. Peter stared at her.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Trying to have my wicked way,’ she said. ‘With you,’ she added. ‘Just to be clear.’

The pair of them froze, half character, half themselves. That was their cue. Jenna heard a cough from behind her, possibly Rachel, and tried to block it out. She was in role. Be in role. Stop thinking, be in role, you’ve a job to do just….

She leaned forward suddenly and pressed her lips to his, catching his surprised look before she closed her eyes. She held his face between her hands and felt him move slightly, adjust the angle.

‘Guys… guys, Jenna you’re blocking the shot,’ Rachel’s voice. Jenna broke loose, still holding Peter’s face and they stared at each other until the director’s instruction came again. ‘Try it again!’

Jenna looked into his eyes feeling like she had to see some sort of permission and he seemed to sense it, nodding once and mumbling, ‘Go, on.’ This time she leaned in slower and let herself suck on his lower lip. This was as far as stage kisses often went for her, superficial, unfeeling; they were odd, nerve wracking and often embarrassing experiences.

Jenna could feel her heart racing for those reasons but as though that was not enough she could also feel an extra wave of anxiety for the fact that this was Peter. This was Peter, this was how he felt and smelled and tasted. Those were his hands now coming around her waist and pulling her closer. This was Peter and she had missed him so much, since the last time they had done this and more.

Somewhere between delight and tears, joy and a sense of being overwhelmed, Jenna’s face grew heated as she remembered previous kisses and she panicked, knowing where she was, remembered the crew standing by. She was about to break away when she felt the tip of his tongue sweep just barely against her lips. Jenna opened her mouth instinctively and she could taste him properly then, a pulse of need and remembrance running through her. She didn’t want to stop anymore and she could feel his arms tightening around her.

‘Ok, let try and get this in the bag,’ Rachel was saying and Jenna tried to pull back but got caught by another sweep of his tongue. She moaned softly and felt him smile. ‘Guys? Ready for a take please. Get those scripts hidden, you won’t be needing to refer to those… _Guys_!’

There was an edge of annoyance in the director’s tone. Peter released Jenna and resumed his starting position on the couch. After his attempts to move things along between them all week Jenna expected a certain smugness to him and was bracing herself to tease him, but instead he sat looking down, his cheeks a little flushed.

‘You OK?’ she asked, suddenly worried.

‘Yeah.’

‘Sure?’

A pause, ‘I think I took advantage a bit there,’ he confessed, ‘Sorry.’

‘No… no…’ she sat uncomfortably at her end of the sofa and chewed her lip aware of the crew eyeing them curiously and avoiding their looks. ‘It’s just um… maybe not the best place, you know awkward. Our favourite word.’

‘Yeah… awkward… sorry,’ he smiled at himself like a fool. ‘I just…. Yeah, sorry,’ he looked around him. ‘Um… Jenna, tell me if this is too much, or too soon, but you wouldn’t like to come over this evening would you. I’m not suggesting anything, you know, too… full on… just a chance to…’

‘What time?’ she asked decisively. Sod it, just sod it, the kiss reminded her of everything good, everything she missed. She’d been responsible all week. She was finished with responsible.

He raised his eyebrows and made an ‘O’ shape with his mouth. ‘About seven?’

‘Done, now get ready to kiss me again…but maybe a bit more restrained, for the camera.’

‘Of course,’ he conceded. ‘For the sake of Art.’

Jenna grinned.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M Rated stuff... at last!

Peter sat at the table in his apartment’s kitchen diner and tapped his fingers on its surface. His eyes flicked from glass to glass to cutlery, to napkins and plates. There was a vase in the centre and a rose within. She’d liked roses, he recalled, the last time they were together. He swallowed and checked his watch, realising it was only half past six. His stomach felt jittery, more like ants than butterflies inside him, and he could feel sweat already under his armpits, even on his back. That really wasn’t going to do much for him when she arrived. She’d be put off instantly by his clamminess and apparent fear.

He stood up, pushed the chair in and looked again at the table. It was perfect, there was nothing left here to do. He entered the joined kitchen and checked everything was ready for the meal. Ingredients prepared so he could throw it together. He didn’t want to take her out, she didn’t think she wanted to be out and about with him, they needed privacy.

Not that he was making assumptions, he told himself when his stomach leapt in anticipation. They’d kissed, in character, ok out of character once, but that didn’t mean things were going to go all the way tonight. Jenna was a lady, he wanted to treat her like a lady. He shut his eyes and tried not to think of how beautiful she had been, two years ago, straddling him naked, skin like silk. Jesus Christ he wanted her. Peter opened his eyes again and leaned against the kitchen counter berating himself for wayward thoughts. He had to get this right. Pace things, show respect, woo her.

Jenna had according to the press at least been alone since she split with Richard which co-incided with when she had spent a weekend with him. Clearly she had become choosey and this was no bad thing, no man could muck her about if she was choosey. That was what he told himself. It had nothing to do with the idea that maybe there had been no-one since him at all. Peter drummed his fingers against the drawer. That was just silly, she was a young fit beautiful woman with needs, she wouldn’t have been alone all this time, not completely.

That just made him feel threatened. Who had she been with? Celebrities? Young handsome men with muscles? He thought back to her persuading him to take his shirt off, to the bedroom being dark and his anxiety. Well another two years had gone by and in the last six months he hadn’t even been working. His gym routine had fallen by the way side when he thought what’s the point. He looked down at his waistline, distinctly more rounded than before and worried. She was if possible even more beautiful than before and he’d let himself go.

Well he hadn’t much to stay in shape for. His marriage had been tense and strained and Elaine had taken to sleeping in the spare room. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had had sex. He was out of practice; he’d let Jenna down. Disaster loomed.

‘Oh for God’s sake man!’ he loudly chastised himself. He stood up straighter and attempted to focus. ‘You are having dinner, just dinner. You’re talking, now that things are more relaxed. If you’re lucky you might stretch to a bit of canoodling on the sofa but for heaven’s sake not push too hard or too soon. There,’ he breathed out, ‘Better. Calm.’

The door buzzed and he looked up sharply, glanced around the apartment for last minute tweaks, and scuttled to the intercom to release the door. He hovered nervously behind the door into the hall, fiddling with the keys, pen and bric a brac on the table near it.

‘Calm,’ he reminded himself, ‘Calm…’

Jenna rapped swiftly on the door and he opened it to find her breathless on the welcome mat.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Ran up the stairs.’

‘Oh… that’s er… keen?’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ she looked as though she might run away again.

‘Do you, want to come in?’ he asked. Was this nerves?

Jenna glanced around behind him, ‘Yeah, yeah of course,’ she stepped in and he moved to take her coat slipping it down her arms and hanging it by the door. He turned back to her about to offer a glass of wine or a drink when he came into contact with both her hands, pushing him as hard as she could, backwards, colliding with the table.

‘Oomph!,’ he exclaimed and then grappled as he felt her put her arms around his neck and sort of spring into his embrace. Jenna wrapped her legs around him and he grabbed her under her thighs to steady her. Before he could say anything at all she was kissing him, a firm insistent needy kiss that took his breath away. He was only dimly aware of items falling off the table as he seated himself against it.

Jenna’s kiss drew him on until his became deeper, longer, his tongue moving in smooth languid movements over hers, his lips sucking and nipping. She was already moaning in his arms and the sound went straight to below his belt so that the next time she moved against him he felt a rumbling groan rise from his own chest. He grasped her harder and began to move her hips in rhythm over himself. Jenna opened her legs wider and ground down.

She showed no sign of stopping and if he was truthful his legs were beginning to feel wobbly, though whether from fatigue or arousal he wasn’t sure. He had the urge to move her faster, harder and then worried his fingertips might leave bruises. Their kisses were becoming sloppier and suddenly Jenna broke off, running her wet tongue down his neck in as way she knew drove him nuts and then with one arm loosened from where she was holding herself, opened his shirt and dropped wet kisses onto his chest. Peter let out a gasp of need. He felt like his entire body was on fire.

Jenna finished sucking at his skin and looked up at him, pupils blown wide and lips swollen.

‘Is this ok?’ she asked to his disbelief.

‘What?’ he said, ‘Seriously? Is this OK? Jenna I’ve thought of nothing else for the last two years, I’ve been struggling to keep my hands to myself all week and…’ he blushed.

‘What… and what?’ she asked, accepting it when he stood and rotated to set her on the table.

‘And I feel like I’m about to blow,’ he said, leaning over her slightly, ‘So yes, yes this is fine by me, just in case you were in any doubt.’

Jenna smiled widely.

‘But what about you? What happened to taking it slowly?’ he asked.

‘I got bored of it,’ she said.

‘Jenna…’ his voice held a slight warning note.

‘What? You were the one who wanted to get on with things.’

Peter ran a hand through his hair, ‘Yes, I don’t deny that but the fact of the matter is you didn’t, you wanted to be sure, and I wanted to respect that so while I admit I want to just carry you into the bedroom, I have to be certain that you’re certain.’

Jenna giggled at the apparent difficulty he was having thinking. Peter rolled his eyes and she pouted at him.

‘I promise,’ she said, ‘I am certain.’

‘What’s changed?’

‘Why do you need to know?’ she asked.

‘Because I don’t want you waking up regretting it!’ he said a little desperately, ‘This is all I’ve wanted to happen, it means the world to me, it’d break my heart if you decided tomorrow you should have waited, or worse that it had destroyed the possibility of the whole thing.’

Jenna leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, her hands on his cheeks. She sat back and looked into his eyes. ‘I promise,’ she said more seriously, ‘I am not going to change my mind or regret it. And if you want to know what changed, I kissed you, it was the kiss. It forced me to remember how much I miss you, how much you meant to me, how much I have wanted that back these last two years.’

Peter looked down at her, his tiny, beautiful little Jenna and felt fiercely protective as well as deeply emotional. He fought the urge to give into those feelings and just throw his arms around her and weep. She cocked her head at him.

‘What is it?’ she said.

‘Jenna…’ he took a breath and steadied himself but the word came out shaky.

‘I want this,’ she spelled out.

‘So do I but…’

‘But what?’

‘But there are complications.’

‘Like what?’ she asked, ‘Age? Work? Marriage? You said you’d finished with Elaine…’

‘I have.. it’s not that it’s…all the other stuff. The public, our bosses, our families.’

Jenna studied him from her place on the table. ‘Peter, I love you,’ she said and he felt his heart turn on the spot, ‘No-one is ever going to replace you, it just doesn’t work with anyone else, I don’t _want_ anyone else…’ she reached for him by his belt and tugged him close. ‘Please,’ she said.

Peter looked into her eyes again, always a mistake, and felt the smile creep over his face.

‘You really want this?’

‘ _Yes!_ ’

He grinned and she returned it before he leaned down and resumed their kiss.

It escalated quickly then, the kiss turning sloppy, their hands at one another’s clothing and a variety of little noises coming from them. Squeaks of delight from Jenna lead to giggling and laughing, punctuated by noises of arousal and desire which gradually took over and formed the greater number of sounds. Jenna forced his shirt off his back and ran her fingers down over his chest before he had a chance to protest. She leaned forward and kissed his ribs, popped her hands on his belly and squeezed lovingly. Peter yelped.

‘Jenna!’

‘Adorable,’ she said, ‘I want to kiss it.’

‘I can think of better places to kiss,’ Peter said and she pulled a shocked face before allowing herself to be lifted again, squealing as he spun with her and landed with her on the couch.

‘Oi! Bedroom,’ she moaned.

‘I’m too old and frail to carry you to the bedroom,’ he said and she pushed him back into the cushions.

‘Too old and frail?’ she asked with a serious look, ‘Should we be doing this at all? I mean what if it finishes you off?’

‘Again, if you want to finish me off, there are ways…’

‘Oh my God!’ Jenna protested, ‘You are like Mr Innuendo, it’s awful, shut up!’ she started laughing and then peeled off her top.

‘Hey I was just about to do that,’ Peter protested.

‘You’re too old and frail, you just lie there I’ll undress us.’

Peter giggled madly, he could feel his ribs starting to ache from it all and was certain he’d probably develop a stitch. He knew he had missed her, every day he’d been aware of it, but now that she was here, playing with him, bantering, plain old mucking about he realised with a bang how much he loved her. He watched her strip the rest of her clothing and undo his belt and trousers, a beautiful, sensual, relaxed version of the woman he had met again a fortnight ago. This was his Jenna, just as he remembered.

‘Hey,’ she said suddenly, her voice concerned, ‘What is it? Oh god, Peter?’

She crawled forward until she was lying on top of him, skin on skin, and ran her thumb over his cheek. He hadn’t even realised he’d been crying.

‘Sorry,’ he said, I just….’

‘What?’ she asked, big brown eyes even larger than before, ‘Please don’t, Oh…’ she shoved herself forward a little and kissed him very deliberately on both cheeks. He couldn’t resist but smile even though it hurt a little still.

‘I just feel like… like I’ve got you back at last,’ he said, aware of another large tear making its way down the side of his face.

Jenna looked like she might join in the crying any moment. ‘You have, you silly man,’ she said, ‘I’m not going anywhere ever again, now do us a favour before we get too miserable… and make love to me,’ she paused, ‘That’s if you’re not too old and frail?’

Peter burst out laughing and the next thing he knew she was kissing him again and it felt magical. The rhythm of her kiss and the movement of her hips were matching and after a few more minutes, their bodies knotting together, skin moving smoothly over skin he felt her pull back and wrap her hand around him.

He arched slightly and then watched as she slid down over him, her eyes shut and her lips parted, her fingers guiding him and stimulating herself. He’d never seen anything more beautiful, or felt anything more exquisite than the pleasure that punched through his body at that moment and in the moments that followed as he watched her. It mounted quickly, too quickly and he grabbed for her hips to slow her while desperately trying to hold back the need to thrust hard into her body. He missed her so much, he wanted her so badly. Peter curved back against the cushions and grit his teeth, aware of Jenna’s hands rubbing up over his chest, she lowered herself so that she could kiss his lips, grinding her pelvis hard into his pubic bone.

The deep kisses were his undoing, the force of those and the pant of her breath as she grew close. He felt her body tighten around him and the contractions of her orgasm start inside her. With no warning his body responded and his abdominal muscles contracted hard, forcing him up so that he clasped her to him and the air was punched from his lungs. A moment later he tipped his head back, eyes shut and cried out his pleasure as Jenna echoed him.

It took Peter an age to really come too, snuggled as he was on the couch with Jenna, her body fitting snugly against him. He was warm and sated and emotionally rather overwhelmed so it was only when she started stroking his belly that he took objection. Jenna pulled an innocent face and he shook his head at her.

‘Peter?’ she said after a while, when the apartment was silent and the sun was starting to set.

‘Hmm?’

‘It’s going to be OK this time isn’t it?’ she asked.

He kissed her hair and held her to him as she cuddled against his chest.

‘It has to be,’ he said.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Jenna and Peter are together and happy in their little bubble but the world is starting to wonder what's going on and Jenna realises they'll have to come clean soon... for Elaine's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a hashtag key on my keyboard! And I have no option to change what kind of keyboard layout I have which is really frustrating so yeah... I've had to write 'hashtag.'  
> I may get onto my phone and edit it later lol

It was the weirdest but easiest feeling. The fun Jenna was having each twenty four hour period was greater even than that she had experienced filming _Doctor Who_. There was just never a dull moment and she didn’t even feel the need to run down corridors with aliens to liven things up. She put it down to waking up with Peter, going work with Peter, coming home with Peter and spending the night with him. What more could she want apart from a brilliant drama to shoot and a great director and crew.

In the bathroom of Peter’s apartment she tied up her hair and checked her teeth and skin. She seemed to have a permanent glow to her cheeks, a sort of virginal blush. Jenna cocked her eyebrow at herself in the mirror, maybe not a virginal blush, in fact anything but. First thing in the morning with Peter was a great way to wake up and set them up nicely for the day. She giggled and then realised he was standing behind her, hands in pockets.

‘Are you laughing at yourself?’ he asked bemused.

‘Apparently,’ she grinned and turned round to embrace him tightly, squeezing the air from his lungs with an ‘oomph.’

‘I am so happy!’ she elaborated.

‘Christ woman, can’t breathe!’ he protested and she released him. He looked down at her curiously, ‘What’s got into you?’

‘You mainly,’ she said and clamped her tongue suggestively in her teeth. Peter rolled his eyes. ‘Have we go time to…’ she started.

‘No!’ he said firmly, ‘You’ve worn me out. You are insatiable. Plus… We need to get going.’ He was smiling as he untangled himself from her and ushered her from the bathroom. The door swung shut and she heard the lock draw to.

‘Fine, I’ll just save myself for later!’ she called.

‘Go away!’

Jenna giggled and practically skipped to the window of the living area, looking down over the street. She was so full of energy and happiness it was in fact completely sickening. The atmosphere at work however was totally different from those awkward first two tense weeks and she could tell the crew were both relieved and a bit nauseated by their behaviour from time to time. Then again as a pair they had driven people non the set of _Doctor Who_ before with their constant chatter and terrible jokes. This was the same just with more flirting.

It was getting difficult though. At first they were rather cocooned and they could do what they liked in private. In public Peter had rightly suggested that they not be too overt about things so they’d started out subtle. Elaine didn’t deserve to be reading about them in the papers before he had a chance to properly sit down and talk with her. The only problem was he hadn’t got around to going back to London. Partly because each weekend he and Jenna would struggle to move from the apartment at all, and partly she suspected because he was terrified.

Terrified of the conversation and the finality it represented. She knew he wasn’t going back to Elaine, but at the same time actively officially ending a thirty year relationship needed some building up to. Jenna sighed, he would have to do it soon, it wasn’t fair on anyone, and they were four weeks into the shoot already. People were noticing things and Elaine was probably by now imagining all sorts. He had left her suddenly, he hadn’t phoned her, all she had were a few texts and her imagination. Jenna hated to admit it but she was actually a bit disappointed in him for cutting her off, it was cruel, even if it was based on his own fear and hurt.

The thought of Peter’s wife sitting alone in their home wondering what he was up to with a woman half his age made Jenna feel suddenly miserable. She’d lived two years without him and thought of him every day, spent evenings breaking her heart over the idea she’d never see him again, that he’d never be hers. So what must it be like for a woman who was married to him, who never thought this day would come? Jenna knew Peter wasn’t apportioning blame to anyone over the breakup of his marriage but she always she knew what was at the root of it. And it was her; she still felt responsible.

Peter emerged from the bathroom and caught the look on her face.

‘Oh, Jenna…’ he tutted as he approached her, ‘What have I told you about brooding? Come here,’ he folded her into his arms where she stood.

‘Sorry,’ she said muffled against his chest, ‘I just…’

‘This is about Elaine isn’t it?’

Jenna leaned back and looked up at him, ‘Yes.’

To her surprise Peter didn’t try to deflect the topic as he had been prone to do. He nodded and pulled a face of contemplation. Then he sighed and looked back at her.

‘This weekend,’ he said, ‘If it would be OK with you, maybe we can head back to London?’

Jenna’s stomach leapt. ‘Are you going to…?’

‘I will meet with her, talk. At the house probably, not exactly neutral territory but don’t want to be having this conversation outside a café with some press hovering nearby. There’s been a few hanging about lately looking curious, I can guarantee they’ll be interested in London too.’

‘Yeah, that would be grim,’ she said sadly; sad that he didn’t even get privacy to do this right. ‘What will you say to her?’

Peter blew through his lips, ‘Well, I’m not one hundred percent sure yet. And some of it depends on what she has to say. But I think it will be along the lines of our marriage has become unworkable over the last couple of years, and that we tried, and that it’s over.’

Jenna watched his face with concern, his emotions running just below the surface. ‘That hurts doesn’t it? Even just saying it,’ she said. He flicked a glance down to her and then away quickly, his eyes wet.

‘Yes, but not for the reasons you might be thinking. I love you, Jenna, I want to be with you, it’s just…’ she felt his hands on her back rubbing softly, ‘It’s a huge chunk of my life, and in some ways it’s like I’m saying goodbye to all of that too. We had some great times, fantastic times, so much fun. I can’t believe….’ He looked at her again. ‘Sorry, you don’t want to hear this.’

Jenna reached up and stroked his hair. ‘It’s hard to hear, yes, but I don’t want you sitting on it either. I genuinely think that would do more harm than good. You loved her a long time Peter I don’t expect you to forget that… and I don’t want you to feel you can’t talk about it or contact her.’

She watched him sniff and then he leaned forward to kiss her head. He sighed a little shakily.

‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I’ve been putting this off too long…’ he seemed to draw strength from her and then pulled away, grabbed his coat. ‘I don’t imagine she’ll want to contact me ever again but thank you for understanding. She’s my friend… was … maybe still is…’ he moaned, ‘I don’t know… that’s the weekend, we’ll deal with that when it comes. Let’s get to work.’

They shared the chauffeur driven car to that day’s location, a beautiful spot on the beach where ‘Michael’ and ‘Lauren’ would go for a walk. The on screen relationship had flourished almost as fast as their own and they were now an established couple dealing with the difficulties thrown up by an age gap relationship. Some of it had been amusing, some frustrating as they acted out arguments with family members spouting clichés about how ‘Lauren’ had some weird complex about old men, how she would be left alone at an early age, and how any children they might have would lose their dad before time.

With Peter now firmly at her side Jenna had thrown herself into the onscreen debates and fought for her right to be with someone twice her age if she so chose to be, arguing that she would rather have ten years of perfect love than fifty of mediocrity. She was immediately praised by a stunned crew for her passion and conviction and turned in an incredible performance that blew Rachel in particular away. Awards, she said, all the awards and about time too.

Peter, who Jenna suspected was moved but trying to seem cool and calm, had quietly whispered between takes that he hoped he had more than ten years in him, thank you very much and for a moment she lost her sense of humour. Jenna had felt pale and ill. Ten years was nothing, and even though Peter had more like twenty or even thirty to go, the script suddenly hit home. He looked at her in alarm as she paled and she dismissed him, she was fine, but from that day there was a niggle in her mind.

They weren’t living in a bubble no matter how much it might feel that way. Time wasn’t frozen just as secrets couldn’t be kept long. If she was going to pursue this relationship she would have to get her head around the idea that she wouldn’t grow old with the man she loved and that, _that_ was a massive realisation.

So she did the sensible thing, stuck her head in the sand and shelved it as best she could, refusing to spoil their days together thinking about it. While they were in Wales at least some of their bubble survived. Peter was so wonderfully fun and energetic and childlike at times it was easy to forget his true age if she wanted to so she treated him like any other partner.

But treating him like a normal boyfriend eroded their bubble more. Jenna held his hand in the back of the car and paid no heed to the driver’s raised eyebrows in the mirror. Less and less they were trying to be subtle, more and more they were forgetting themselves. It was just as well they were heading to see Elaine this weekend because soon the constant stream of fans on their trail would notice that their interactions went beyond ‘very close friends.’

On the beach swaddled up in padded coats against the perpetually cold wind the two of them went through their lines. ‘Lauren’ was trying to persuade ‘Michael’ to have a baby and he was complaining about changing nappies in his late fifties.

‘Could be worse,’ Jenna said off script. He looked up at her from the paper.

‘What?’

‘Could be changing nappies in your sixties,’ she teased.

For a moment he didn’t twig and then he protested loudly, ‘Oh God no, no I’ve done that bit of life, I’m way too old for that.’

‘You’re wonderful with kids!’ Jenna countered, ‘ _So_ wonderful!’

‘Yes in a grandfatherly way, with little fans and relatives, I don’t have to take them home at night and make them their tea or read bed time stories…’ he zipped up his coat.

Jenna pursed her lips, ‘Don’t you miss it a bit? I bet you do a great bedtime story.’

‘How do you manage to make that sound sexy?’ he asked and she giggled. He looked at her incredulously, ‘And no,’ he said. ‘Don’t get me wrong it was wonderful, having a little one, probably the best thing I’ve ever done but to do it again now? I’m decrepit. No way.’

Jenna laughed. ‘Decrepit? Hardly.’

‘I would be by the time the kid was old enough to interact or remember me. I’d probably die before he or she got to university.’

‘Peter!’ Jenna exclaimed. ‘I do not want to even think about that.’ He shook his head and she kicked at the sand in front of her. ‘Anyway, I might go first, like in the script.’

‘Jenna! For God’s sake!’

‘See not nice is it?’

Peter looked at her utterly pained, ‘I’m dreading that bit…and that’s just pretend. Can we please change the subject?’

‘Not really because we’re doing that scene tomorrow, you know… when Lauren tells him…‘

‘Yes don’t remind me, it’s going to be awful. Poor man’s been through enough with his wife.’

Jenna watched him for a moment, the breeze in his hair and his ever present sunglasses perched on his nose. By discussing the script she could feel real life tapping at the door. What would she do if she lost him? What would she do in ‘Lauren’s’ situation? How would she cope with knowing she was going to leave and there was nothing she could do about it, that he’d be left alone? She suddenly felt overwhelmed. She never wanted him to feel alone, not ever.

‘I love you,’ she said urgently.

Jenna launched herself at Peter and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his desperately. He staggered backwards on the sand a little and automatically held her to catch their balance. After a moment he managed to pull her away.

‘Jenna!’ he half laughed, half hissed, ‘What are you doing!?’

It occurred to her then that they were in public, rehearsing, standing on their marks on the beach with cameras pointing at them and possibly already running. Up the hill slightly a group of fans were also standing with their phones waiting to meet them when they finished. She cast her eyes around and then looked back at Peter.

‘Oops,’ she tried. Peter rolled his eyes.

‘Nice one,’ he said. There was no anger in his voice but she did detect a mild frustration. She looked back at the fans who appeared to be chatting, texting and taking pictures all at once.

‘That’s so going to be online like… now,’ she said.

Peter pushed his hands through his hair. ‘Yes,’ he said. ’And in the meantime the crew are looking like,’ he turned and squinted at them, ‘Looking like they sort of saw this coming… ok, one less worry I suppose.’

Jenna swallowed. She’d been having so much fun she’d let her guard down on several occasions already, in taxis, at dinner, on set, if captured rumours and pictures had all been posted to Twitter as fans track the development of the new drama. There had been some rumblings about how close the pair were but nothing with any substance. But now this, an actual kiss, outside, between takes.

‘Maybe they will think it’s the scene?’ she tried.

‘Relax they probably will,’ Peter assured her, looking back at his script, but she detected the flush on his cheeks. Thank God they were going back to London this weekend. She had this feeling it all had to come out into the open once and for all. That was scary though and she wasn’t sure she was ready to pop the bubble they were in. She eyed the fans again still distributing shots of the pair of them no doubt, and took out her phone. Jenna scrolled through twitter.

Her eyes grew wide and Peter looked back up at her. He sighed. ‘Tell me?’

‘Mixed response,’ she said reading, ‘‘OMG OMG so sweet my babies at last hashtag whouffaldikiss’. From a girl called twelveclara4eva. ’

Peter raised his eyebrows. ‘OK. And…?’

‘And ‘OMG Eww what the hell??? he’s so old hashtag JennaCanDoBetter hashtag yuk’ from jennafan92.’

‘Charming, any idea if they think it’s for the drama or real?’

Jenna scrolled some more, ‘Drama I think yeah, oh,’ she looked guilty and before she could stop him he came around to peer over her shoulder.

‘Saw this on location with P&J feel a bit sick hashtag thankgoditsjustpretend hashtag vomit.’ From cameraboy88’ He stuffed the script and his hands in his coat pocket. ‘Nice to know we’re going to get a warm social media greeting, and that one of the cameramen feels queasy.’

Jenna laughed. ‘It’s mixed, some people are delighted. A bit too delighted.’

‘They might feel very differently when it all comes out, and it will, it has to. Older man leaves loyal wife for beautiful young actress. I don’t think either of us are going to be very popular.’

‘Does it matter? ‘she asked, concerned.

‘Not as long as I’ve got you,’ he said. ‘We can’t dismiss it entirely though. It’ll be tough.,,,Now where did we get to?’

‘I want a baby,’ Jenna said. Peter chuckled.

‘Just say that a little louder for our audience,’ he instructed, ‘Make sure it gets onto Twitter.’


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Jenna film an M rated scene but reality is starting to creep up on them and its not all fun and games. An emotional speech reminds Peter that he still has to face Elaine.

Jenna crawled across the bed in her underwear and kneeled by Peter’s side. He was wearing his glasses and nothing else and he kept his eyes firmly on his book while she cleared her throat insistently.

‘Ah-hem,’

He smirked and lifted the book a little higher. She prodded him in the arm. ‘Oi!’ he complained batting her with the paperback.

‘A little attention please,’ she said, ‘put that down.’

‘Do you ever stop?’ he asked removing his glasses and putting them on the bedside table.

‘One day,’ she affirmed, ‘Not quite yet though.’ She scooted nearer and straddled his hips, sitting back and surveying his stomach and chest, her fingers running over the length of his body softly. He watched her face fall slightly as though lost in her own thoughts.

‘Hey,’ he said gently, reaching up and stroking a strand of her hair, ‘What is it?’

Jenna focused on him again; painted on her smile. ‘Nothing,’ she said, ‘Come on, let’s get down to it.’ Peter raised his eyebrows.

‘What’s this all about? You’ve been at me all week!’

‘I find you incredibly attractive?’ she suggested.

‘Hmm…’ Peter considered, ‘This is this baby thing isn’t it? The thoughts been put in your head and now you’re determined to get pregnant.’

He didn’t say it unkindly but he saw a transformation in her eyes. How did she do that? Go from sultry and funny to devastated and afraid?

‘It’s not that,’ she said, ‘It’s _so_ far from that…’

‘Then what? Talk to me?’ he insisted. Jenna regarded him from above, pressed her lips tight together and tried to stem the tears before they began.

‘I didn’t want to tell you,’ she said.

‘Tell me what? Why wouldn’t you want to tell me?’

‘Tell you about... about…’ she looked down at her hands resting on her thighs and seemed to make a decision. Slowly she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, slid it from her arms. Peter’s eyes roamed quickly over her before she reached down and took one of his hands, pressing it to her left breast.

‘There,’ she said, ‘Do you feel it?’

He tensed the muscles of his face, felt a horror spread over his features. ‘No... it’s probably nothing, right?’ He looked at her eyes, wet with unshed tears, ‘Right? You’re too young!’ There was real panic in his voice now.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jenna said, I didn’t want to say, because of your wife… I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to do this to you.’

‘I can’t. I can’t lose you,’ Peter said.

‘Cut!’ Rachel’s voice shattered the moment as Peter watched a single tear rack down Jenna’s face. There was more of the scene to come and he was almost afraid of how intense it would get. A runner brought Jenna’s robe to her and she covered herself while Rachel spoke to the sound people.

‘You ok?’ Peter asked. Jenna moved off him and lay on the other side of the bed.

‘It’s hard stuff,’ she said, ‘You know I’m trying to convey that sense of live now, do everything now before she gets so sick she can’t. Like she already knows treatment won’t work for her, a sort of sixth sense. She’s found Michael at last but it’s just her luck to be taken away, that’s what always happens to her so she just accepts it, but she feels so guilty, for him.’

‘God, that’s really depressing,’ Peter said.

‘Not as depressing as the next bit,’ she said.

‘Oh the irony. She finally finds love and then she dies.’ He watched the cameras move into position.

‘Yes but we get to do a sex scene first!’ Jenna grinned knowing he hated them with a passion.

‘Hooray,’ he said bitterly.

‘I promise to make it fun. You set?’ Jenna asked.

‘Yes, I think…’ he hesitated. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this and then heading to London. How many mills do I want to put myself through today?’

Jenna laughed sadly and squeezed his hand. ‘It’s a tough one, but you have one bonus.’

‘Oh?’

‘You get to have me sitting on top of you for long periods half naked.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Yes, yes… that can’t be argued with. Chin up.’

The sound of footsteps and Rachel appeared by the bed. ‘Ready? If we can get this done we’ll be back on schedule.’

‘Go for it,’ Jenna said and began peeling off her robe again.

‘Sure?’ Rachel said, ‘Happy with the set-up, the lighting, what people will see?’

‘Yes,’ Jenna said certainly.

‘Peter?’

Peter sat up slightly, ‘Well luckily for people they won’t see much of me at all its Jenna they will see. It’s up to her. If she’s comfortable, I am.’

‘I have to be on top,’ Jenna said from nowhere. Rachel raised her eyebrows and Peter nearly choked. ‘Aesthetically, but also practically, I’m too little to go on the bottom and for it to still work,’ Jenna explained.

‘Jenna…’Rachel said, ‘You don’t actually have to… you know… align. For real. You’re pretending.’

Jenna flushed crimson and Peter had to look away to stifle his laughter. Here they were about to film something powerful and heartwrenching and trust Jenna to start an embarrassing conversation about how realistic the missionary position was for her height. Rachel decided to forego any further conversation and retreated behind the monitor. She probably feared what might come out by accident if she continued to speak with the couple, Peter was pretty certain she of all people knew exactly what was going on between them, but they had remained professional and silent. He glanced at Jenna as she climbed back on top of him and let the set dresser arrange the sheets and covers.

‘Shut up,’ Jenna said to him. ‘I need to get back in the zone.’

He held up his hands, ‘Not saying a word.’

‘Can we take it from…’ Rachel’s direction came, ‘Lauren’s ‘I love you.’’

Peter settled back into the bed and watched as Jenna sat up straighter on top of him. She leaned back slightly, arching her body and flattening her already very flat stomach. Her breasts looked fuller and more rounded, and then she began to move. Peter had a vague thought that he quite possibly had the best job in the world and then reminded himself he really had to get into role for this bit because after Jenna was finished ‘making love’ to him there was a very intense conversation to be had.

He was however finding it exceptionally difficult to focus on anything except the rhythmic grind of her pelvis. Presumably because they were already intimate Jenna had not insisted on anything in particular between them to hide any signs of arousal; both just wore their under wear, hers a lace brief to match the bra she had removed in the previous scene, and him just his boxers. He could feel himself responding and attempted to will the feeling away.

He’d performed sex scenes before and always found them to be embarrassing, awkward affairs between actors who did not know one another, felt no attraction and yet had to be intimately acquainted again and again as the damn things usually took about ten takes to look convincing. It was all angles and light and discussion around positions and sex noises. In general the experiences made him want to die and were about as far from arousing as he could get.

He’d more or less forgotten this would be different and perhaps pose some problems. He couldn’t ignore the burn of desire he could feel building and he was also forced to pick up his breathing in a realistic fashion which appeared to fan that fire even further. He was stuck in a feedback loop, watching as Jenna, naked, beautiful and so recently his that she still had the power of novelty around her, moved purposefully on top of him.

Her character was grabbing life, and life at that moment meant sex, raw and passionate. Jenna was portraying this to the absolute maximum. She was consuming him. She cast her hair back over her shoulders and panted through her open mouth, bringing her hands up her abdomen, stroking her taut skin. Her right hand travelled to her right breast, but her left was avoided. It was the only real concession she gave to the story, otherwise she could have been at home. Peter’s hips jerked under her once involuntarily, out of time to the pace they had been setting as part of the ‘show.’

He knew instantly that she had felt it, she gave it away in her eyes and for a moment he pleaded with her silently not to do this, the humiliation would be enormous. She gave him a look that said if she had her way she would take him right up to his conclusion in front of a room full of people, and he couldn’t quite tell if she meant it. It was then he heard Rachel’s direction and wondered if she was trying to figure out why they were taking so long on this bit.

‘Wind it up now, come on Jenna take her there.’

Jenna closed her eyes and shortly afterwards began moaning, the sound going right through him. He tipped his own head back only half aware of the cameras. He felt hard and needy, if she just kept this up for another minute, he was starting not to care who saw, they would just think he was acting. Jesus this couldn’t be right, this blurring of life and film. He needed to snap out of it, be a responsible adult again, he was acting for God’s sake. But she felt good, so very good so he reached for her and felt her take his hand and place it to the ‘healthy’ breast of the drama, her moans becoming louder until she was apparently there.

Jenna faked a climax and by doing so urged him to copy her, before slowing to a stop on top of him, damp with sweat and breathless.

‘Can we talk now?’ she said sticking to the script.

He heard a clatter off to the left and suddenly it became very clear he was on set, where he was supposed to be working and he needed to focus on that and not the throbbing beneath the sheets that was clouding his brain so effectively. Rachel cursed mildly at whoever had made the sound and paused the scene.

‘Jenna,’ he said quietly.

She snickered, ‘Sorry, I can’t help it if you find watching me do that arousing,’

‘It wasn’t so much that as where you were er… leaning,’ he complained feeling hot.

‘You need something to cheer you up.’

‘Yes well it didn’t quite get as far as that.’

Jenna laughed and sat back a little waiting for things to begin again and the serious conversation. Peter felt a smile coming to his face.

‘This is so silly,’ he admitted, ‘It’s ridiculous. I can’t believe I even did that? Its so unprofessional and think of the consequences. I should be able to control myself better than that. What have you done to me?’

Jenna pursed her lips, ‘I’m irresistible,’ she half mouthed half whispered as Rachel approached. Peter tsked and rolled his eyes, adjusting his position and feeling slightly better.

‘Ready?’ Rachel said.

They ran through the scene with their scripts and Peter’s buoyant mood came crashing down. The scene was emotional and dealt with loss of a loved one and potential loss of the woman who replaced her. It felt was strangely close to home for him as he spoke of his wife in the past tense. He felt shaky by the end of the first take. It was silly, Elaine wasn’t dead, but he couldn’t shift the feeling of her as part of ‘the past’ and all he lost with that. An hour ago he'd been having pretend sex with Jenna, laughing and feeling aroused, now he was an emotional wreck mourning the past. He wasn't dealing well with the day, with the last few weeks if he was honest.

 They managed in just two takes; he didn’t feel he could have done it again and he was concerned at how it had effected Jenna who appeared equally upset by the dialogue. She was after all the girl putting him through the trauma in her mind and on the script for different reasons. She was to 'blame'

The premise was that ‘Lauren’ had discovered a lump in her breast and had not sought medical attention. She had thrown herself into life love and ‘Michael’ instead, until she was persuaded by her boss to tell him at least. She was frightened of doing so because he had long ago revealed that his darling wife had died of breast cancer eight years before.

Now he was terrified he would lose ‘Lauren’ the same way. ‘Lauren’ was filled with guilt and offered to just leave and Peter enacted a devastatingly painful scene around the injustice of death. The final part of this had to be filmed twice for camera angles so with Jenna sitting cross legged opposite him on the bed he went through the final speech.

Peter took both her hands and kissed them.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jenna said, ‘I feel like I’ve betrayed you, I’ve wrecked everything in your life, you were fine before I came along, you’d rebuilt it and now I’m destroying it by bringing back all these memories.’

‘Don’t be silly, you didn’t chose this, you didn’t wish for this pattern of events.’

‘No, but it’s happening now, there’s no escaping it. It’s happening and all its consequences. It’s all so painful. I don’t want to cause you pain,’ Jenna said, ‘I should go.’

‘You are going nowhere and you have to believe that. I won’t let you, I’ve made my choice and you are it,’ Peter said, ‘I’ve been to some very dark places and I’ve waited years for you to find me. Now you’re here I won’t let go. I’ve had to let go of so much in my life but not you, not yet, not ever. If one of us goes it’ll be me, that’s how it works, not the other way around, you’re too young, and I will do anything to get you through this, anything. I will be there from beginning to…’ he stopped as though realising what he was saying.

‘End?’ Jenna said, looking at him.

Peter drew her into his arms, ‘No, no…. that’s not how this works, not for you… I’ve already lost my wife to this, but you, you’ll be ok… _we’ll_ be ok, it has to be ok this time.’

There was silence as the scene ended and Peter and Jenna wiped their eyes. A minute or so passed and people began rustling about on set, before a runner dashed up to the bed.

‘Peter,’ she said.

‘Yes, darling,’ he smiled, relieved the scene was done. Some of it was irrelevant but some of those lines, consequences and choices, loss, it had unsettled him. The day was so up and down, as many days had been since being with Jenna, he hardly knew what he felt from moment to moment. He knew however he needed to go to London and sort this out.

The runner handed him his phone, ‘It’s been getting message after message, I didn’t know if maybe you needed to look, in case there was an emergency or something.’

‘What?’ he grabbed his glass off the table and unlocked the phone.

Jenna looked at him sharply, ‘Not your daughter?’

‘No,’ he said looking at the screen, ‘Elaine.’


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna and Peter have to face reality head on.

Jenna watched Peter’s profile as they were driven through the London streets towards home. Her home, where she would be dropped off, hopefully fairly quietly, and then his where he would meet with Elaine after her barrage of text messages. The atmosphere was pretty grim and the journey had been unbearably long. Peter appeared understandably tense and distracted and there was an edge to his voice she didn’t recognise and didn’t like much either, so they sat in silence.

She had never seen Peter angry and he was famous for his incredible patience and long fuse. He’d once said that being taken for granted at work would set him off and she had since learned that anything to do with his family would guarantee a protective explosion of wrath. It had been that she had witnessed on set and she had to admit it had scared her.

After revealing the texts were from his wife Peter had flung back the covers and shrugged on the robe offered by the stunned runner. He was absolutely livid with rage, trembling down to his fingertips. Jenna felt suddenly vulnerable, still cross legged and half naked on the bed; not that she thought he would do anything to hurt her, but every instinct when faced with someone as angry as he now appeared, was to get out of their way. She could see something building in him although as yet he hadn’t explained what was going on.

‘Is she OK?’ Jenna ventured.

He was standing largely with his back to her, hands on hips, and she could see him grinding his teeth as he glared at the floor. Now he transferred that glare to her.

‘Never better,’ he said sarcastically, ‘Why don’t you check your phone? You’ll soon get a picture of what’s happening, its everywhere. This is unbelievable, we’re being ripped to pieces in the new, online. And of course it means Elaine has it coming at her from all angles. She didn’t deserve that. Christ! These people are scum, absolute fucking bastards! We need to leave, right now.’

Jenna again felt like somehow things were her fault. She called for her robe but Peter had left the set before she could pull it on again, headed to his trailer presumably to get dressed properly. Jenna stood by her chair behind the cameras and scrolled through different applications on her phone. Her stomach dropped as she red through Twitter and Facebook and even the BBC news. It wasn’t known for its engagement with gossip but Peter’s connection to _Doctor Who_ had fired them up as they labelled him a ‘disgrace.’

It was everywhere; she kept scrolling as she half trotted to her own trailer, ignoring the calls of one or two crew members wondering what on earth was happening as both leads dashed off the set. Hurriedly Jenna let herself in and grabbed her clothes, finding it almost impossible to drag her eyes away from the feed. How had everything escalated so fast? Who was feeding the rumours? She thought back to the tweet from cameraboy88 and tried to work out who he could be. Then again it could be anyone who’d caught a glimpse of her and Peter together, they weren’t being as careful as before.

The sense of urgency with which they both got into the car was thwarted quickly. Like it or not there was a long drive ahead of them which just brought any immediate response they might have to the press or to Elaine to a halt. It didn’t stop the twitter feed and it didn’t stop Elaine’s barrage of messages but it stopped them from defending themselves or responding in any way unless they wanted to weakly ‘tweet’ back which Peter refused. Jenna watched him get increasingly frustrated while she found it impossible to stop refreshing the page on her phone.

They were ten minutes from her house when she realised Peter had turned from where he had been glowering out the window for the last hour and was now looking across at her. Jenna cautiously shut off the screen of her phone and looked back.

‘You’ll be home soon,’ Peter said, ‘Do me a favour while I’m trying to sort this?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Just don’t say or do anything yet. I need to speak to her, tell her the actual truth and not the exaggerated hyped up media versions. Just lay low.’

Jenna felt hurt, just lay low, don’t exist for a while, because if you do exist you’ll make it worse. She quietly told herself off, that wasn’t what he had meant, but she did feel vulnerable.

‘Are you going to put out some sort of statement afterwards?’ she asked wondering what his plans were, would a solicitor be involved?

He passed a hand over his face, ‘I honestly don’t know what comes after this conversation with her, but she’s still my wife and I owe her this. I owe it to her to try and clear up this godforsaken mess. I should have told her before now; this is my cowardice doing this.’

Jenna listened with anxiety, it still made her nervous when Peter talked about Elaine as his wife, it still made her feel that she was on the edge of his life, somehow more dispensable when a crisis hit, that his loyalty still lay with Elaine. It might be paranoia, but Peter returning home to have relationship conversations with Elaine made her worry he wouldn’t come back to her, and his current mood didn’t help. Jenna was the cause of the trouble, wouldn’t it be easier to just deny everything and repair his marriage?

She turned her body towards him intent on receiving some kind of reassurance before she had to get out the car, but at that moment it pulled into her street.

‘Oh my God,’ Peter whispered looking down the road.

‘You sure you want dropping, Jenna?’ the driver asked.

She scooted forward and peered through the gap between the front seats. Luckily the glass in the back of the car was tinted and obscured people’s views of her, something she had always previously found funny as she was driven around like a superstar. Now it allowed her to look across at her house and at the bank of journalists and fans hanging about outside without them spotting her too quickly. People were peering in her windows, milling about on her steps, checking their cameras. She recoiled into her seat when she spotted an actual camera crew with presenter and microphone.

‘Shit,’ Peter said, ‘they’re at you too, I should have thought.’

His phone beeped for the hundredth time and he looked down at it.

‘Expect more of the same at my place,’ he said and then looked up at her. ‘Your decision, Jenna.’

‘What?’

‘Fight your way through that lot and draw your curtains for the night or…’

‘Wait you want me to lock myself in there, alone, with the baying media outside and bunch of obsessive fans? Have you seen these tweets? Some of them want to hurt me!’

‘I didn’t say that I wanted you to go in, I said you had a choice… go home or..’ he steeled himself, ’Or come with me.’

Jenna stared at him a moment. ‘To see Elaine? Shouldn’t you do that alone?’

‘Yes, probably,’ he admitted, ‘But I don’t like the idea of you here alone, anything could happen. And… and it’s not fair. You’ll spend all night wondering what the hell’s going on.’

Jenna nodded, inspecting her hands, ‘Yes, yes I will.’

‘So.. it’s up to you…’

‘Elaine will go mad,’ she said, ‘It’s not fair on her either.’

He considered, ‘You’re right, you’re the last person she wants to see but…’ he eyed a group of fans with banners, homemade, with ‘colepaldi’ written on them and decorated in hearts. Jenna looked at the group opposite them who had other banners with ‘homewrecker’ on them.

‘Jenna these people are… worrying. Some of them are pro us… some want to stick a brick through your window,’ Peter said. ‘I want you to be safe.’

Jenna sighed, ‘Fine, OK, I’ll come too but I’m staying out the way as much as possible. You two need to talk without me hanging around.’ It was awkward, so awkward but at the same time she was reassured he cared. He wasn’t just abandoning her so perhaps she could afford to have no concerns about their relationship as a whole.

‘Skip Jenna’s,’ Peter instructed the driver, ‘Go straight to mine, let’s see what kind of press presence we have there.’

It was so much worse. Jenna felt herself hold her breath as they rounded the junction into Peter’s street. There was press from two neighbours down to at least two up from his house, and they were several deep, standing around chatting with one another, holding flasks of coffee. They had clearly been there some time as they were accumulating litter, and the rest of the street would be deeply irritated at the number of cars and vans with satellite dishes attached to them suddenly parked down their street.

And fans. Fans of the relationship and those who supported Elaine. Banners and excited voices on one side and downright aggression on the other. If they’d had longer they probably would have made up ‘team colepaldi’ T-shirts. As it was Jenna was more concerned they were going to start cat fights in the street. She had no idea people cared that much, it was terrifying.

‘Shit,’ she heard Peter say. He was used to crowds and press. He couldn’t move for it when he was in the show and would patiently speak to fans for hours, but there was no sense of the amicable crowd here. These people were out for blood, to take photos and write piffy aritcles about the former Doctor’s affair and his betrayal of his lovely wife. Elaine was already in the press of course having been caught out earlier in the day; the doorbell ringing and a camera in her face. Did she have any comment to make on the pictures of Peter and Jenna that were emerging? Was she aware of their affair? Elaine who had quietly been grieving for her marriage and waiting for Peter’s contact had snapped at last. She would not be treated like that, and if they insisted on disrespecting her publically then Peter could join her.

Peter’s phone went again. Elaine. ‘Get out of the damn car,’ he read out, ‘It’s your turn.’

He took a deep breath and watched as the driver got out first to open his door. He glanced at Jenna and she tried to I’ve him a reassuring smile.

‘It’s going to be ok,’ she said wishing she believed it herself, ‘It has to be, remember. We’re nearly there. The press were always going to have a field day, it’ll pass. And Elaine…’

‘And Elaine?’ he asked raising his eyebrows, ‘How is that ever going to be OK? Really? You should see some of the stuff she’s been sending today. She’s cracking up. It’s never going to be OK, the best I can hope for is to paper over the mess we’ve made and hope everything hangs together while we run from it and I spent the rest of my days feeling guilty.’

Jenna felt sick, ‘Peter you do still want to be with me, right? This isn’t scaring you off?’

He paused and swallowed hard, looking at the back of the seat in front of him rather than her. After a minute he said ‘Yes, I want to be with you, I love you, Jenna. But I am a little scared by that mob, and by what’s happening to Elaine…’ he admitted.

Jenna took his hand, ‘Anyone would be, I think, I’d be worried if you weren’t.’

He smiled sadly without looking back at her but squeezed her hand. The door swung open and a rush of noise hit them both. Jenn looked past him to the photographers and journalists shouting questions about their relationship and felt him disentangle his hand from hers. He left the car and the door slammed shut.

Jenna knew it must only be a matter of seconds or a minute until the driver opened her door too, until the same wave of noise hit her and the same questions, but when she stood up and looked around her she noticed that Peter was already gone, disappeared through the crowd into the house. She looked up the stairs; the door was open but there was no-one to welcome her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elaine confronts Peter.

Peter had jostled his way through the media to the relative safety of his stairs and made his way to the front door. He knew to keep his head down and not look back, he knew not to say anything or to check that Jenna was behind him. He prayed the driver had the sense to help her into the house, because he swore, if any of that lot laid a finger on her…

He still had his house key so he opened up the door, noting Elaine hadn’t deadlocked it but left it on the latch for him. Apparently always considerate even when hounded by press and half destroyed by the actions of her husband. Peter extracted his keys and left the door open for Jenna. He stepped into the hall.

He hadn’t been home for nearly a month and he could see the changes. Elaine was a proud, clean and tidy woman who would frequently remind him to pick up or help around the house. His artistic nature and tendency to chaos meant that he was the messy one while she had a place for everything and never let dust settle. He moved down the corridor a little and ran his finger over a bookcase; it came away grey.

So she wasn’t cleaning, it wouldn’t be his priority given the circumstances either. Elaine was allowed to be licking her wounds and for the first few weeks her texts had indicated she was doing that. Asking how he was, if he would come home, if they could talk. He had sternly ignored all of them until Jenna had advised him to at least reply. He wondered if Elaine knew Jenna was actually her ally in this a lot of the time. While he was too cowardly to speak to her, it was Jenna pushing him to do so.

He heard the front door close behind him and turned to find Jenna standing awkwardly in the hall.

‘You ok?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ she sounded a bit shaken, ‘Not an entirely nice crowd out there but we probably don’t deserve one.’ She glanced around her, ‘Where’s Elaine?’ she said quietly.

‘Not sure,’ Peter moved towards the living room door and put his head around it. ‘Listen, I’m not being rude but maybe you could wait in the front?’

Jenna nodded, ‘Yeah, no worries, I’ll be in here.’ She stopped and looked up at him fearfully and Peter wrestled with what to say, if anything. Eventually words failed him and he bent to kiss her on the cheek. She had offered her lips and her surprise at his avoidance was obvious in her eyes. She dropped her gaze and left the hall. He hadn’t meant to imply something, or had he? He couldn’t think straight until he’d spoken to his wife.

So where was she? He turned to the back of the house. She usually could be found in the kitchen or in what served as her parlour, all soft feminine colour schemes and furnishing, a private place like his studio. He stood outside it’s door and tried to keep calm, he was struck with a fear of what he might find, how she would look and behave, a fear of what he had done to her made flesh.

Peter laid his hand on the doorknob and opened the door. The light curtains rustled, the windows in there were almost always open, the air fresh. With a glance he could see Elaine wasn’t in, hadn’t been for a while by the looks of it; the books on the ledge beneath the open windows were sodden with rain water. She would never normally let that happen to her possessions.

That scared feeling increased as he made his way to the kitchen. He half expected her at the table, with her laptop, working. He’d even accept her on her laptop reading endless social media gossip, he just wanted by now to find her at all. However, there was no sign. Peter looked at the work area, the things in the sink, the bread with green mould. He opened the fridge to find it largely empty and the milk turned to cheese.

If she hadn’t been texting him that day his panic by now would have overwhelmed him but he knew she was alive, and here, he just had to find her. He took the stairs two by two and checked the upstairs rooms including his daughters. Again there was no sign. He knew Cissy had gone to a friend to escape the press, but Elaine was running out of hiding places.

He trotted back down the stairs trying to think and bumped into Jenna at the door to the living room. She looked confused. ‘Where is she?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know; I’m not liking it though. I’ve looked all round the house, no sign. Think. If it were me, if I needed time and space and somewhere to feel safe, where would I go…? She had her parlour, why wasn’t she …’

‘Studio,’ Jenna said, ‘You’d go to your studio.’

He looked at her. ‘I would, yes but why would Elaine?’

Jenna shrugged. ‘It’s at the back, its quiet, away from the press, private…. And call it a girl thing, she might want to be near you.’

Peter looked at her with something like awe. It made sense to him, that was where she was, he was totally sure of it. ‘Stay here,’ he said and headed for the back door. He half ran down the path to the studio and then came to a sudden halt by its door. He closed his eyes for a moment, above everything else he had to remember, this was his wife, this was the woman he had loved for three decades, she was owed respect.

He pushed open the door and it shut quickly behind him so that he was alone in the afternoon sunlight of his artists’ workshop; alone with Elaine.

She was sitting on the red couch, where else would she be, her chin resting on one hand and her eyes on the portrait of Jenna hanging opposite her. Peter looked between the faces of the two women. Jenna’s immortalised as youth and beauty and adoration; Elaine’s different now from when he had last seen her, older, paler, more worn. She had never really looked her age before and now suddenly she did. She suddenly looked like she was sixty, a woman of pensionable age. The realisation hit him in the guts, so much time had passed for them both, God only knew what was left.

Elaine turned and looked at him at last, bright blue eyes cutting in her older face.

‘You took your time,’ she said, ‘Anyone would think you’ve been avoiding this… me.’

‘I admit I’ve been putting it off, yes,’ he said, realising lying was pointless at this stage of things. Elaine looked mildly surprised.

‘Still I didn’t think it would take half of Fleet Street outside to get you here,’ she said.

Peter moved to sit on the other end of the couch. ‘I never wanted it to be like this,’ he said, ‘I thought I had time, that we could meet and discuss things before any of it got out.’

Elaine huffed and shook her head, ‘Peter you have just no idea, you never did. It takes so little these days to set them off. One picture, one eye witness and it’s all over twitter. And you two, you two have managed a hell of a lot more than that. There’s dozens of shots….’

‘What? From when?’

‘I don’t know, from the last few weeks. Sitting in restaurants, holding hands, kissing, more kissing…. You’ve been all over each other!’

Peter looked baffled. ‘We tried to be careful, subtle.’

Elaine rolled her eyes, ‘Well you failed, look,’ she grabbed a small pile of ‘evidence’ from the table to her right and dumped it on his lap. He quickly flicked through it and his heart sank. Long lens cameras, just as Elaine said, in restaurants, in public places he had thought were more private. He stopped, in the window of his apartment, Jenna in his arms kissing him, her top missing as he undressed her.

‘Shit.’

Elaine glared at him. ‘So now you’re finally here,’ she said, ‘What lies were you planning to spin?’

‘What, I don’t understand…’

‘Let’s start with this picture,’ she jabbed a finger towards Jenna’s portrait, ‘You started it that weekend, that stupid hateful weekend when I said ‘go for it.’ I was a total idiot and you, you played me, you took advantage. It’s been going on since then hasn’t it? Hasn’t it?!’

‘What, no, we were apart the whole two years, I didn’t even speak to her, you know that.’

‘I know _nothing_ now!’ Elaine stood up rapidly and swayed a little.

‘Elaine?’ Peter went to steady her and she pushed him away.

‘Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me. I will never let you touch me and I will never believe you ever again! It’s all been false, everything. The world thinks I’m a fool. The press think _they_ are fools. All those times they wrote about your ‘special friendship.’ You’ve probably been at it since the day you joined the show with her!’

‘Elaine, no!’

‘Well I’ve no proof otherwise, I might as well refer to twitter or facebook to see the current ‘status’ of my marriage. ‘Complicated’ maybe, or how about this one? ‘Divorced?’’

Peter felt like he’d been punched in the guts, the reality of his situation, of their relationship and everything it had meant to him suddenly thumping into his chest and abdomen and taking his breath away. He looked at Elaine, loved for so long by him and felt her slipping through his fingers. He looked at the face he had adored all that time and wondered if he could really walk away.

She saw it in his eyes and something in her face changed just slightly. She still burned with anger but now there was the tiniest spark of hope. He couldn’t stand to see the pain that came with it though. He was weak, he was so weak. He thought of Jenna back in the house, waiting for him. He loved her but maybe this wasn’t her time. She was young, she was easy to love, she would find someone. Was he doing the right thing?

‘Elaine…’ he said quietly and watched that tiny spark of hope in her eyes grow just a little. She looked between him and the portrait on the wall and then suddenly made a grab for it and a palette knife lying on the easel’s shelf.

‘Christ what are you doing?’ Peter cried.

‘Asking you to make a choice,’ Elaine said, ‘Once and for all. I love you Peter, that will never change, but the last few weeks have been hell and now we have the media, and the BBC on our tails. Everyone is disgusted with it, an ‘old man’ they say, the Doctor no less with his young companion. Cheating openly. Leaving his wife? You’ll never get past this. Not unless we try and repair things.’

She looked at the picture. ‘She’ll be ok,’ she said, ‘I know you care about her, I know she cares about you, but face it, it’s not practical, it’s not going to ever work, she’s too young, has too much life ahead of her. Let her go…’

Peter hung his head. In his mind the scene on the beach he had filmed with Jenna that week replayed. People thought he was too old, and maybe he was. Maybe he would deny her a future, deny her a child, deny her all the things she deserved. He had to make a choice between those facts and his heart’s desire.

‘Give me the knife,’ he said.

He’d made a decision.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final instalment of angst....but not the final instalment of the story

Jenna watched in the mirror as the make-up artist carefully added a shade to the brush she was wielding under her eyes. She had some remarkable dark circles and looked gaunt and ill, with dry lips and shadows everywhere. It was an amazing transformation but a subtle one too, gradually done over the course of the drama until she looked frail and weak by the final episode, her character’s life draining from her. It was terrifying really, when she looked at herself, everyone has to die of something and she had this odd sense that she could be looking at her future. Jenna shook her head and focused on her script, her mind was too easily lead towards sadness these days.

Weeks had gone by and filming had progressed smoothly and movingly, the bond that Peter and Jenna shared no matter how scarred by events adding a depth of performance which was rarely found between two people. All they received was praise. They hardly needed any direction, they just hit the set and went for it. So few takes needed, Rachel sitting at the side watching the monitor, more often than not dabbing away tears as ‘Lauren’s’ illness progressed. This was BAFTA worthy she said again and again. If only Peter and Jenna could bring themselves to care. They carried a sense of regret with them that squashed every spark of happiness. Jenna wondered if it would get better. Peter had said it would, but his voice had trembled when he said it.

In the drama ‘Michael’ proved to be an attentive nurse and Peter’s gentleness and natural optimism was allowed to shine through despite how low the pair of them were feeling in real life. His character refused to believe that time was running out and gave the best of himself to ‘Lauren’ so that her last days would be as happy as possible. All the while the irony that she was leaving him first, when he was so much older lingered with all the other little ironies about the age gap, and about his previous wife’s almost identical illness. Michael was haunted by her living ghost, Lauren, lying in the same death bed at half her age. Emotional scenes were difficult right now, especially those to do with loss, and Jenna watched him gnaw his thumb and rub his hair, his tells when under stress. But he never said a word, he kept strong for her.

Today ‘Lauren’ was going to die. Jenna had done a few death scenes but never acting opposite someone she loved so much. Someone for whom she knew this was going to be difficult; someone who’d been through quite enough in the last few months and whose feelings were as jumbled and damaged as hers. In a way she didn’t want filming to end, she wasn’t sure what the world held for them afterwards; where they would go, what they would do, how people saw them.

Fans were divided. Some thought the whole concept of them as a couple adorable; the majority thought it unpleasant. Jenna was too young, Peter too old, they had betrayed the platonic relationship on _Doctor Who,_ messed with the whole concept. Children watched that show, families, how could the Doctor have an affair with his companion? How could someone representing modern morality betray his wife of thirty years? Peter came off worse than her; judged and condemned. He was concerned he wouldn’t work again. He worried he’d stolen her career too.

The media circus ran rings around them; they still called their agents and stood outside the studio waiting for individual interviews, the whole idea of their relationship past and present a fascination despite warnings from solicitors to back off. It was tiring and frustrating and she wished it would all go away.

If it had all gone away things would be so different and not necessarily for the best. Jenna turned the page of her script and winced at the lines on page eleven. Oh this was going to be so hard. Hadn’t Peter had enough hard conversations, real and make believe. Hadn’t she? One in particular haunted him.

Every now and then Jenna would remember Elaine as she was on that day when they had arrived from Wales to find the press outside her home. Jenna had waited in the front room while Peter had disappeared to speak to his wife and it had seemed to take forever. She hovered by the mantelpiece, paced the carpet by the fireplace, and tried to avoid the window where the media would spot her. It felt like hours were passing, slowly, she had no idea what to expect. She had been so sure that she and Peter were solid now, that this time there was no going back but here she was, in his home, close to everything that meant most to him. Things could change.

She heard Elaine approaching and turned to find her in the doorway. She was horrified by how she looked, usually so neat and pretty, so worn out and pale today. Weeks of worry, of missing Peter, or trying to work out which way her life was going, had taken their toll. She was half the woman she was and yet, Jenna could see something in her face that said she was not done yet.

‘Jenna,’ Elaine said, her words tight in her mouth, ‘I didn’t really expect you to be in our home, were you hoping to depose me and get the house too?’

‘No! No, that’s an awful thing to say. Elaine I never wanted…’

‘You did, you did want, or you wouldn’t be here,’ Elaine commented. ‘Peter and I have been talking, _finally_ ,’ she laughed and it sounded painful. Jenna looked at her feet. ‘He could have talked to me earlier but I take what I can get these days.’

There was a sound from the hallway, heavy, tired footsteps and Elaine leaned over her shoulder to call his name, ‘Peter! Come here.’

Slowly he appeared in the front room and Jenna had to look twice to take in what she was seeing.

‘Peter?’ she asked, ‘Are you ok,’ she instinctively moved to go to him but Elaine’s icy glare stopped her.

‘He’s fine,’ she said quietly.

‘He looks like he’s bleeding,’ Jenna said in alarm.

‘He made a decision, and that was the result,’ Elaine said a bit distantly. She sat down in a nearby armchair. ‘It all happened a bit quickly,’ she explained.

 

‘Ready?’ the make-up artist finished dusting Jenna’s forehead.

‘Um… yeah, sure,’ Jenna stood and left the mirror, wound her way through the equipment and crew to the bedroom set. ‘Lauren’ was to die at home as she had wished, tucked up in her own bed with the man she loved. Jenna immediately felt the burn of tears at the backs of her eyes. Oh this was going to be so hard, to watch Peter’s face as she said those lines. She got into bed and let people fuss about, adjust things, point lights at her. She stared at the ceiling and the rigging above her and wished for a moment she _was_ in her own bed, that Peter was about to join her, that she could just hold him.

This drama production was finishing her off; the drama in her life had started the process. More and more she just wanted to rent a cottage in the country and hide, preferably with Peter there but she didn’t know if that was even possible. She swallowed, resisted touching her face and disturbing the ‘death mask’ she’d had applied.

‘Hi,’ Peter’s voice above her, he crawled into the bed and put his arms around her, letting her lean against his shoulder. Jenna could feel the tears welling up already.

‘I’m not sure I’m going to get through this,’ she admitted in a shaky whisper.

‘ _You’re_ not sure, how do you think I’m going to manage? This is the last thing I want to act out, losing someone I love, someone who is basically you.’

‘Got to be done,’ she said.

‘You and I have been through the wringer enough,’ he said sadly, ‘Without acting out all this…’ he gestured… ‘ _Grief._ There’s been too much grief. You don’t have to watch someone die to feel it.’

‘Are we ready?’ Rachel approached. She seemed to take on board the atmosphere between her two leads and the difficulty one if not both of them was having holding themselves together. ‘Hey, we’ll get this done, I’m guessing you’re going to be spot on, you won’t need to go again and again.’

‘The last time I said goodbye to a character while working with Peter I kept crying at every take,’ Jenna said, ‘So be careful you might jinx it.’

Rachel smiled a little, ‘Seriously though, you guys ok? I know things have been…’

‘Things have been hellish,’ Peter agreed, his voice rough, ‘But that’s over now, it’s all over.’

Rachel looked at him for a moment and then in a move that was unusual for her mid shoot, put her arms around Peter’s neck and kissed his cheek. She backed away and did the same to Jenna.

‘You’re going to be fine,’ she said and retreated behind her monitor.

‘Does she mean the take or our lives,’ Jenna said.

 

With Elaine sitting motionless in the armchair, Jenna had insistently gone to Peter’s aid and checked the long red marks on his arms and smears on his shirt. She was tearful enough from what was happening around her, from the disintegration of Peter’s marriage to the threat to her own relationship with him; she could hardly see where she was touching for the blur in her eyes.

‘Jenna, Jenna,’ he was saying, ‘It’s OK, Elaine’s right, I’m fine…’

‘But… there’s blood…’ she frantically touched his chest trying to find the source of the smears. Peter grabbed her arms.

‘No, darling, not blood… there’s no blood, Jenna… look at me.’

She looked up and the tears ran from her eyes clearing her vision.

‘It’s paint,’ he said, ‘It’s just paint. From the portrait.’

‘What?’

‘He stuck a knife in it,’ Elaine said looking up slowly. She was crying silently. ‘For a moment I thought, everything is going to be OK. I asked him to choose, between me and you and I held the knife to that painting, to threaten him because he loved it so much… but he wrestled it off me. I didn’t know what he was doing for a moment and then he stuck the palette knife in the portrait, the one of you on the red couch. He shredded the canvas and I thought, he’s chosen me, he’s chosen me. But he hadn’t.’

‘I don’t understand; why did you destroy the portrait?’ Jenna said.

‘Because it had lost all of its beauty, it had become malicious hanging in that studio; Elaine looking at it and hurting; me doing the same. It had to go.’ Peter rubbed at the red on his hands.

Jenna looked at him a little horrified, ‘You stuck a knife in my portrait…. And…’ she felt cold and sick.

‘The portrait is just a portrait,’ Peter said, ‘It’s you I choose. You, Jenna.’

She’d never forget the sound Elaine made then, even as Jenna’s own heart leapt with relief and bittersweet joy, in the corner of the room she could hear the other woman’s heart breaking.

What right did she have to feel happy?

 

On set there was silence, the cameras running, and Peter cradling Jenna in his arms and they went through the final scene. Jenna could feel the tears running down her cheeks and the heave of his chest behind her.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, ‘I don’t want to leave you.’

‘You’ll never leave me,’ Peter whispered, ‘I refuse, I refuse to let you go.’

‘It’s so unfair,’ she replied, ‘I found you too late, and there’s hardly any time…now I have to give you back.’

‘Better the time we had than none at all…  why was it you? Why didn’t it take me? I love you so much….Lauren? Lauren?’

Jenna drew a long breath and slowly let it go. She heard Rachel yell ‘Cut,’ and felt Peter move away. She opened her eyes knowing the shoot was over, the drama finished with and that the life she was returning to would never be the same. When she sat up she saw Peter standing in the corner of the set, tears pouring down his face. What now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue still to come .... find out what happened for Jenna and Peter when filming finished.


	15. Epilogue

Jenna shivered and pulled her jacket tight around her. She’d lost track of time again, perched on a rock overlooking the sea, the beach stretching out for miles to either side of her. She loved it here, the quiet rush of water, the breeze and the scent of brine. It was so different from her life before, before acting and media and awards and heartache.

Here it was always peaceful. Here after a few months of people recognising her, questioning her, things had settled down. She had been so afraid at first, of what people thought, of what they said, that she barely moved from the house, hardly showed her face. She was alone in a cottage by the sea, waiting for people to lose interest, waiting for someone to come and make the cottage home.

A few months down the line he had done just that. After attempting to clear the air publically, after the seemingly endless divorce arrangements and negotiations had begun, after putting himself through hell, Peter came home to her. He was drained, drained and miserable and disorientated, his whole life had turned on its head, and Jenna didn’t know what to do. She gave him time.

He spent his days in his new ‘study,’ but she knew he wasn’t working. The scripts didn’t pile high anymore, people were still cautious. His reputation was permanently marred by what they had done together, although Jenna couldn’t believe producers would opt to ignore his talent forever. Peter on the other hand had been around longer than her, seen more, and sensed his acting career was done. He’d survive, he said, he had plenty of money, they had a home, it wasn’t the end of the world. He regretted only what their affair might have done for her future. She knew he regretted more.

He made a new studio in the garden and retreated and Jenna had the wisdom to let him, for a while.

At the end of winter the award ceremonies came and went and they both were ignored once again. The drama had been aired and the reviews had raved about the quality of their performances; audiences had been entranced, but Peter had left his wife after cheating with his co-star so no-body could back the project for a glittering statue. Jenna wondered since when the media as a whole became so bothered by people’s love lives as to exclude them. Didn’t they thrive on such gossip? She felt bitter for Peter, protective and defensive, and once again convinced it was all her fault.

Spring and the media hovered nearby for other reasons. They shouted at her in the street and tried to make her feel worse than she already did. Jenna lost confidence and holed up in the cottage while Peter signed endless paperwork and discussed selling his house through solicitors. Elaine had moved north to be with family and it had hit him hard, this idea that his closest friend for so long was now out of reach, that the marriage was really truly done with as he scratched his name on the documents that severed their lives from one another. But he was stronger now somehow, more focused, more determined and though she could tell part of him was broken, he seemed to be building some other part of his heart afresh. She needed him to, happiness still eluded them and she didn’t know how much more she could bear.

Then at last summer was beautiful. The press had got bored and other famous faces had done much, much worse than them. The media scuttled to stalk them outside their houses in London and left Jenna and Peter in their little Welsh cottage. The locals had accepted them, the simple fact that Peter was a kind human being had gone a long way to ingratiating them into the community. He walked every morning to the little shop and slowly made everyone smile. Tiny children were over the moon that Doctor Who lived nearby, even if it was the ‘old one’ and not whoever had taken over. Jenna didn’t care about the new one, even the show was a million miles away and no longer mattered. Nothing mattered except that cottage by the sea and the lives inside it. Finally her world was complete.

Jenna got up and stretched the cold out of her limbs before climbing the slight slope up the beach. A couple walking their dog waved hello and she smiled back. For some time Peter and Jenna had wondered if their lives would ever settle, and she’d lain awake at night and cried believing she had ruined everything for the man she loved; now she was just so relieved.

She wandered up the path to their cottage, the little front garden neat and tidy, the early autumn roses, yellow and white around their door. It was open slightly, always was and she could hear Peter long before she saw him, the clear notes of the guitar accompanying him with a familiar song.

_Oh wilt thou become a poor beggars lady_

_To lie in the heather rolled up in my plaidie_

_The sky for a roof and yon candle a star_

_And my love for your fire sweet Tibbie Dunbar.._

Jenna edged around the door quietly to catch a glimpse of him sitting by the fireplace with his guitar on his lap. His voice was steady as he reached the end of the song and leaned forward to check inside the crib, reaching in to adjust the covers that warmed their daughter.

‘You should do the lullaby,’ Jenna suggested, ‘You know the one about the Castle and the baby,’ she wandered into the adjoining kitchen and began to gather things for breakfast.

‘She’s asleep now she doesn’t need me warbling on,’ Peter said about to put the instrument away.

Jenna moved to the chair opposite him and stood behind it, pulling her best appealing face, ‘I do,’ she said, ‘Go on, I missed that one… let me hear another…’

He sighed and looked up at her before breaking into a resigned laugh. ‘You always get what you want in the end,’ he gestured towards their baby, ‘Example one,’ he adjusted the guitar, ‘Example two,’ he began to play.

Jenna smiled and glanced up above the mantlepiece, to where a portrait of them both together now hung in pride of place.

‘Example three,’ she said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lullaby Jenna refers to is the Castle of Dromore as sung by the Corries and available on you tube. 
> 
> The lyrics quoted are from Tibbie Dunbar also by the Corries and used earlier in the story.


End file.
